


Smoke & Mirrors

by nellasera



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Canon Divergent, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Imprisonment, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Vigilante Justice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26318293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nellasera/pseuds/nellasera
Summary: Katara doesn’t know exactly what will come of her vigilante adventures with a masked counterpart in Ba Sing Se, but what she does know is that there’s something magnetic about him; and something that’s almost comfortingly familiar. Even if the mysterious Blue Spirit, enemy of the Fire Nation, doesn’t speak or show his face. Blutara AU.
Relationships: Katara/The Blue Spirit (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 159
Kudos: 282





	1. disparate youth (prologue).

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you for clicking and giving this fic a try. A few things before starting:
> 
> 1) This is somewhat canon compliant. There are minor changes and eventually greater divergences with canon, especially as we get further into the story. This is the first of two fics set in the same universe; this first fic takes us slightly into the timeline of Book 3.
> 
> 2) When I tag slow burn, I mean it. 
> 
> I love kudos and comments! And if you'd like to come say hi, I'd love that too. I'm over on tumblr under this pen name (@nellasera). 
> 
> I think that's all. I hope you enjoy!

It was twilight.

The streets of Ba Sing Se were becoming dark, dancing with shadows as people bustled about, moving through main streets or slipping down alleys. They were refusing, as people in colossal metropolises tend to do, to let the approaching night hour slow them down.

Katara slipped through the streets, alone.

This was something of a rarity. In fact, once she got back to the mansion in the upper ring that had been given to her and her friends as their official place to stay in Ba Sing Se, Katara was almost certain that Sokka was going to lecture her about staying out too late alone.

They had all agreed that being out at dark was better in pairs or, optimally, as a group.

Katara hadn’t _meant_ to stay out until dark.

Her time shopping at the marketplace had passed much more quickly than she had anticipated. There was just so much to look at in the city. She certainly missed her village; she missed the way the snow crunched under her feet and the way that the cold would bite at her nose and cheeks. She missed the penguins, and, of course, Gran-Gran and the others she and Sokka had left behind. But the city, large and secretive and iimperfect as it was, fascinated Katara.

Here were crowds of people going about their business, all living entirely separate from one another. Strangers, with lives and hopes and dreams and goals that Katara would never know. Products that filled markets that Katara could marvel at for hours—spices or foods that she still had never seen, despite the fact that she’d been traveling the world on the back of a sky bison for no short amount of time by now.

And the _noise_. The upper ring was quiet—there were rules there about too much noise.

But down here, in the lower ring, the chaos never stopped.

And Ba Sing Se was especially fascinating in the dark. Lights glittered and people scuttled and the conflicts that the authorities tried to hide and deny were harder to suppress.

Katara both hated and loved Ba Sing Se.

Katara slung her bag higher over her shoulder as she walked, trying not to groan out loud. It was very heavy, and the strap was digging into her shoulder. There were vegetables inside, and she knew the potatoes were the main source of weight. She sighed, peering up in the direction that she knew the upper ring was located even if she couldn’t see it through the complex web of crowded buildings. She had a long way to go. If only she could get there over the rooftops.

What she could do, however, was take shortcuts.

Katara had taken the route between the upper and lower rings enough times now that she knew some of the best narrow streets to slip through. She had hurried through two winding streets and four alleys and was trying to ignore the ache that was beginning to build on her shoulder and that was creeping into her neck when she heard something that immediately made her heart begin to pound.

It was a squeak of fear—a little girl.

Katara knew this sound far too well.

Countless times, she had been the little girl making sounds like that. Or she'd heard them from the little girls in her village during raids, the ones she’d always felt responsible for protecting. So it was with no hesitation at all that Katara hurried forward to follow the sound of the voices. They seemed to be coming from an alley ahead and to her left.

“—my mother needs it, she’s pregnant—” The young girl’s voice was shaking but still sounded determined.

Katara picked up the pace even more, her heart now stampeding against her ribs.

“Then she should have come and gotten it herself,” growled a man’s voice. It was deep and adult and Katara promptly abandoned the bag on her shoulder so she could enter a full on sprint. “Hand it over, girl. No harm will come to you if you do.”

“She has to be home with my little brother. He’s too young.” The girl sounded tearful. “We’re all very hungry. We really need this. Please mister, don’t—” But her words were drowned out in a little scream, and then came the sound of fabric ripping.

“Stupid little brat,” snarled the man just as Katara made it around the corner and got a full view of the situation. They had clearly struggled over the bag the little girl had been carrying, similar to Katara’s, but it had ripped and sent the food tumbling to the dirty ground.

The man raised his hand, about to strike her. Katara, simmering with rage, began to summon water out of the water pouch that she always kept hanging over her hip, ready to attack—

Before she could, however, a figure dropped out of the sky. Or, more accurately, from the roof above.

They weren’t facing Katara. But she could see from her position still halfway down the alley that they were dressed in all black. And she could also see the blades glinting on their back.

The figure made no sound as it promptly stepped in front of the girl.

Katara could make out ribbons tied to the back of the figure’s head. Whoever they were, they were much shorter than the looming man before them. And yet, they didn’t draw the double blades resting on their back. They just stood there, spine straightened, waiting for their opponent to strike.

It all happened very quickly. The large man, with a furious yell, lunged forward to attack the newcomer.

The little girl screamed, stumbling backward, but the figure side-stepped deftly to the left, light on their feet, and then turned and aimed a swift chopping motion into the man’s side. When this caused the man to stumble the next jab came to his neck, hard enough that he fell to the ground.

It was then that the figure drew one blade, quick as lightning, and held it at the man’s neck.

There was near silence for a few seconds; only the sounds of the large man’s breathing could be heard, harsh and furious under the sword pressed lightly into his throat.

“I’ll go,” he spat out finally. “Let me up, and I’ll go.”

The figure hesitated. Finally, they stepped back. They removed the blade just enough for the man to stand up but did not lowering it, and they also did not relax their fighting stance. The large man looked like he wanted to spit at them, but eventually he turned and lumbered away, grumbling. Katara was already hurrying forward, but the figure and the little girl hadn’t noticed her yet. The little girl seemed to be preoccupied with staring up at her savior, who’d begun to turn around.

A flash of blue and white—the taunting smile of a familiar mask—

Images raced across Katara’s mind’s eye, plastered across posters in the city.

_Wanted—_

_Enemy of the Fire Nation—_

_Handsome reward—_

Katara gasped quietly as the figure faced her.

“You’re the Blue Spirit!” piped up the little girl in awe, echoing Katara’s exact thoughts.

The Blue Spirit didn’t spare the girl a glance. They were staring at Katara, and their stance reminded her of the rigid fighting position they had assumed against the thief. Katara started to take a step forward, uncertain why they would feel so threatened by the sight of her.

And then they turned on their heel and began to bolt away, both swords tucked on their back once more and glinting in the moonlight.

Katara blinked, surprised into inaction for half a second.

“Wait!” she cried out after she'd recovered, rushing forward. “Wait, please!”

But the Blue Spirit didn’t turn or stop, nor give any indication they’d heard her. Their head start was too great, and Katara didn’t want to leave the little girl behind all on her own. And so she halted, disappointed, watching the back of the figure dart around the corner and out of sight.

Shoulders slumping a little, Katara turned to face the wide-eyed little girl.

“Here,” said Katara gently after a moment of shocked silence, walking forward and bending to pick up some fallen apples from the ground so she could begin packing them into the girl’s bag. “If you just wash the food that fell, it’ll be good as new. And I can walk you home, okay?”

The little girl chattered excitedly with Katara as they gathered her fallen food from the ground and didn't stop on the entire walk home. She speculated endlessly about the Blue Spirit and gushed about the rescue. She thanked the water-bender at least twenty times before Katara had gotten her home, though Katara felt like she hadn’t done anything at all before the Blue Spirit had dropped into the scene. Though she was invited inside the little girl’s home Katara declined the offer, knowing she needed to try and find her own bag of food that she had left on the street—not that it was likely, someone had probably already taken it—and get home before Sokka had a heart attack.

As she again slipped through the streets of Ba Sing Se, Katara couldn’t shake her thoughts away from the mysterious Blue Spirit, serving justice under the cover of darkness.


	2. I. girl // sleepless.

Katara was experiencing a lingering restlessness, a persistent itch deep in her bones, and she knew that the cause was staying in the same place too long after months of journeying on Appa’s back.

She knew that Aang would not want to leave Ba Sing Se until they had found Appa. Or at least not until there was evidence that Appa was not in the city. And besides, speaking to the Earth King was important, and it wasn’t as if they could travel very far without Appa anyway.

It still didn’t mean that being trapped in Ba Sing Se was easy.

Even if the city held certain fascinations.

And the latest fascination for Katara was the Blue Spirit.

After her encounter with the figure, her eyes scanned every wall for posters. She’d study them closely whenever she spotted them, trying to glean more information, but the posters knew even less about the Blue Spirit than Katara did. Knowing that the Blue Spirit was an enemy of the Fire Nation was intriguing enough, but now Katara knew that they were wandering streets and jumping rooftops, helping innocents…

Katara spent two weeks hovering around the rundown streets of the lower ring as the evenings approached in the hopes of finding them again.

She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t tell her friends about the encounter or her increasingly desperate attempts to see the Blue Spirit again. Perhaps because she feared they would see it as a distraction. Or maybe they would want to join her.

For Katara, however, even if it was a distraction, it was a welcome one—somewhere she could channel her brimming energy which was threatening to spill over.

* * *

One evening, as Katara was mingling once more in the lower ring, there was a commotion on the street.

As usual, she heard her brother’s voice of warning in her head. “We should probably keep the bending to a minimum,” Sokka had said, not too long after the group’s arrival in Ba Sing Se and after they’d made the decision to quietly search for Appa without permission. “Only for emergencies.” He had been looking at Katara as he spoke, his gaze a little knowing. “Especially water bending,” he’d continued. “There probably aren’t many water-benders in the city, so if there are problems with a water bender it wouldn’t take long for it to get traced back to us. We don’t want to risk losing a meeting with the Earth King, and we’re already breaking rules for Appa.”

Katara knew what Sokka was really saying without actually saying it : _Now isn’t_ _the time to take_ _justice into your own hand_ _s, Katara._

Sokka had a point, of course, as he most often did. But it was much easier to agree with his words in theory, upon first arriving in the city and with little to no context for the happenings of the lower ring, than it was to agree with them now, while Katara was watching injustice play out before her eyes.

From her current standpoint at a stall down the road, hood pulled surreptitiously over her head to avoid attracting attention, Katara glanced over for what must have been the third time. A gigantic man, tall and thick and brutish, was leading a group of two other similarly built and intimidating looking men to a dilapidated little stall. Katara knew from her now extensive wanderings of the lower ring that it was a struggling food stall. It was owned by a wizened old man that had smiled brightly at Katara when she' d orered a soup there one afternoon.

“Just ignore it,” whispered a voice, the saleswoman at Katara’s market stall. Katara looked up at her, blue eyes wide.

“What?” Katara couldn’t imagine how people could simply look the other way, but when she glanced up and down the street she saw that everyone had averted their eyes.

“It’s the way of things down here,” said the woman sadly. “They own this street, and many others besides. And if they show up and we can’t pay right away...” She trailed off, biting her lip. Her eyes flicked fearfully toward the stand again, which the men had just paused at while laughing boisterously.

Katara felt her blood begin to boil, and she almost dropped the orange she was holding.

“This is all I have,” came a shaky, frightened voice, along with the unmistakable jingle of coins hitting the counter.

“Anyway,” said the woman, hurriedly looking away, though she flinched at the sound of a loud crash seconds later. When Katara’s head whipped over she saw that the sound had come from the ringleader of the group smashing his fist onto the counter top of the old man’s stall. Coins went flying, and the man cried out and ducked.

The fruit saleswoman valiantly tried to push through with her sale, even though her voice was shaking. “So—I—I also have some lovely pears if you want to—”

But Katara dropped all the fruit she had been contemplating for purchase and was already moving quickly down the street, her nimble fingers automatically unscrewing the water pouch she kept on her belt. She’d kept a low profile in Ba Sing Se until now. No water-bending attacks. She could do it now. Just the once. Dusk was falling, and she’d keep her hood up.

No one would be able to _prove_ it was her.

Buoyed by her decision to act, Katara picked up the pace, curling her fingers and feeling the water in her pouch begin to react in response, ready to follow her command.

“That’s not the price we agreed on, old man,” one of the men said, and the others gave angry grunts of agreement. “This isn’t even half.” He leaned forward, right into the stall owner’s space. “You know what happens when you can’t pay, don’t you?” The other jeered and laughed; one of them cracked his knuckles.

“Please!” cried the man, taking a few steps backward. “Business has been hard, people keep disappearing, and—”

“Save it,” snarled the ringleader. “That’s your problem to solve, not mine. This is the second time you’ve tried to cheat us by giving us so little.” He gestured lazily at the stand. “Smash it to pieces,” he told his men, as the owner gave a little wail of misery and stumbled further backward, hands flying up to protect his face.

“Walk away.” Katara’s voice was harsh and loud, making the group pause and slowly turn to face her.

A hush fell over the street as passserby stopped to stare at the young woman now standing on her own across from four extremely large men; and the men carrying weapons, no less.

Abruptly, the thugs all began to laugh, the sound echoing down the otherwise hushed street.

“Go home, little girl,” said their leader, eyeing her with extreme dislike.

“Leave that man alone.” Katara tilted her chin up and did not break her gaze.

The man’s eyes flashed. “And what exactly are you planning on doing about it?”

“You probably don’t want to find out.” She could feel the blood running through her veins, and the way that the water in her pouch was waiting for her to direct it. Her power was pulsing, hovering, ready to be commanded. The water’s vibrations were in her fingertips. They _were_ her fingertips.

The group of men just laughed harder at this answer. The old man peeked up and over the stand again, now watching the exchange with wide, fearful eyes. “Whatever, sweetheart,” sneered the leader, and then turned his back on her. The other men followed suit, chortling; they had not even considered her a worthy opponent.

That, Katara decided, had to be remedied immediately.

Like lightning she reached out with her power, forming the water in her pouch into a whip. It snatched the ankles of the leader and brought him to the ground with a resounding crash.

Roaring angrily, he sprung to his feet.

In unison, all of the men drew their swords. Several stall owners gasped or squeaked in fear.

“A bender, are you? Fine,” snarled the leader, teeth bared. “If that’s what you want.”

They began to advance, drawing their swords.

“Yes, actually,” said Katara, a small, fierce smile curving the edges of her lips upward, “This _is_ what I want.”

The fight commenced with a fury. The group charged and Katara backtracked, light on her feet, first using her water whip to hook around the ankles of one of the attackers and fling him against a nearby wall. He slid to the ground, unconscious, and she repeated the attack on the next target. This one dodged it with a shout, and Katara turned on her heel and ran, knowing she would be unable to immobilize the entire group before they reached her.

She headed toward a side street at full speed and, spotting buckets of water dotting the street near a tether for ostrich horses, Katara pulled the water out and threw the gigantic wave over her shoulder. The ostrich horses were screeching, and the owner was shouting angrily at her, but Katara was too concentrated on her next move to notice. She half turned, still running, and with one expert sweep of her hand, froze the spilled water.

There were roars of dismay as the remaining two men chasing her lost their footing and began to slip and slide on the street. One of them flew backward, landing hard on his back, his sword clattering beside him. Katara kept going, pushing through the side street and emerging into the next one. She used the maze of streets to her advantage, dodging nimbly between people and carts, returning to the street from which she’d come.

Shouts came when Katara reappeared.

Mostly they were shouts of encouragement, but they quickly turned to shouts of warning when the ringleader sprinted into the street too, still hot on her heels.

When he saw her, he charged. Katara tried to shoot a water whip at him from her pouch, but he dodged it. And then—in a show of massive brute strength—he hurled his sword through the air at Katara like a dagger. She side-stepped, surprised that he had been able to throw it at her. And he hadn’t even slowed down.

The moments it had taken Katara to dodge the attack had cost her, and though she'd begun to summon a water whip again to attack the man got to her first.

He kicked and his foot collided with her chest, sending her flying backward.

With a crash, she hit yet another barrel of water. Dimly, she heard more ostrich horses screeching before she crumpled to the ground, wheezing and clutching at her chest. Katara let out a quiet moan of pain and squinted up in the dim light dotting the street, which was now bathed in the darkness of approaching dusk.

Katara tried desperately to get her bearings.

The wind had been knocked out of her; she was dizzy, not to mention that drawing breath was painful. Her adrenaline was still pumping enough to warn her to move, however, and her fighter instincts were also buzzing. Especially when a large, blurry figure appeared over her, brandishing the sword he had earlier thrown. Katara gasped and rolled, just in time for the metallic sound of the sword swiping through the air to whiz by her. She heard it strike the ground exactly where she’d been laying and knew to keep rolling.

When she was facing the sky again the sword appeared once more, almost out of nowhere. Again reacting on pure instinct, Katara used all of her remaining strength to summon the water lying in puddles all along the ground. With an upward block movement, palms out, it turned to ice and formed a shield right in front of her.

The man thrust his sword forward and it lodged momentarily in the ice. The tip made it through, only inches from Katara’s chest.

Growling with fury, her attacker yanked it out again, and the ice shield shattered. Katara let out a little cry and automatically covered her face from the hard shards raining down around her, littering her arms with tiny little cuts. She looked about wildly, trying to find and focus on her opponent again.

He rose his sword once more, the grimace on his face now positively livid and even a little demented. And Katara very briefly went numb with terror before she rolled again.

This time, the sword did not strike the ground where Katara had been. Instead, there was a very loud clang from somewhere above her. “What the—” snarled the voice of the leader. She heard gasps, and eventually whispers, and Katara finished rolling and sat up to survey what had happened in the space of mere seconds. Her eyes widened.

There, standing right behind the criminal gang leader and with their dao swords held menacingly to his neck, was the Blue Spirit. When the leader growled and tried to struggle away, the Blue Spirit pressed the blades further into his skin. Katara could see little droplets of blood forming.

“Yield,” hissed the man, eyes widening. “ _Yield!_ ” He dropped his sword to the ground, where it clattered loudly.

The Blue Spirit did not move the dao swords right away. First they whirled their captive around so that the man was facing the opposite direction. And then the Blue Spirit aimed a kick at his back. The criminal stumbled forward, cursing, and then bolted, leaving his sword forgotten on the ground. There were excited cheers and shouts erupting on the street. Katara scrambled to her feet, still struggling to catch her breath and wincing at the pain in her chest, eyes locked incredulously on the Blue Spirit.

“They’ll still be back, though,” Katara heard the fruit stall saleswoman mutter under her breath. She sounded so melancholy that Katara was about to go and speak with her and make promises that she knew that she wouldn't always be able to keep—that she could personally watch over the street, that she would help keep them all safe—but then the Blue Spirit began to hurry away, slipping into the closest alley they could find.

Katara wasn’t about to let them escape a second time.

“Hey!” she called. Her voice was much more of a croak than usual. She side-stepped a few curious shoppers trying to get closer to her. “Wait! Wait! Please!”

The Blue Spirit was unnaturally quick. But Katara had also learned how to move quickly through the crowded streets by now, and she wasn’t a slow runner by any means. It seemed that the Blue Spirit was desperate to get away from her once again, because she tailed them through the alley, down a side street and then another before they entered another alley. And they were giving no indication they were about to slow down.

“ _Please_!” called Katara, her breath coming in short, uncomfortable bursts by now. Why was the Blue Spirit running like this from her after just stepping in to help her finish off the fight?

Rather irritated now, Katara’s eyes quickly scanned the alley, looking for a water source to bend so that she could possibly slow down the retreat of the figure she was so intent on catching. But before she could do so, she was taken by complete surprise as the Blue Spirit skidded to a stop right before entering the next street.

Katara nearly slammed right into their back and the sharp swords glittering there, but she was able to narrowly avoid the collision by dodging to the side. She was still stumbling when she felt a hand on her wrist, pulling.

“Wha—” she began loudly, but she wasn’t able to finish her sentence.

The Blue Spirit’s hand clapped over her mouth and began dragging her further into the shadows of the alley.

Katara was too shocked to react for a few seconds. After all, this person had just saved her from some serious stab wounds, so why would they want to drag her into an alley against her will? But then panic set in and she began to struggle, making muffled noises of anger and indignation against their hand. The Blue Spirit made a furious shushing sound, drew her further into the shadows, pulled her down to duck behind a dumpster, and used the other hand to jab a finger furiously in the direction of the street they had been running toward.

They peered around the side of the dumpster and watched carefully. For a few more seconds there was silence except the sounds of labored breathing filling the alley. Katara followed the gaze of the masked figure and waited, eyes wide, mouth still covered.

Three Dai Li agents marched by the alley down the other street, weapons out and faces determined.

Their footsteps had passed and faded into obscurity at least a full minute before Katara felt the Blue Spirit relax. He lowered the hand from her mouth and stood up.

“No. Don’t you dare,” said Katara quickly, but they were already starting to slip away again. This time, however, Katara was prepared. She hurried around to plant herself in front of the Blue Spirit, staring up into the mask and folding her arms.

“Just _wait_ a second, would you?” she asked, frowning up at them. She hadn’t realized how much taller they were than her. Seeing the Blue Spirit framed against enemies made them appear short, but they were still at least a whole head taller than Katara. She found herself tilting back to look up at them properly.

The Blue Spirit’s fingers twitched. Katara guessed they were still plotting a possible escape from this interaction.

“Why do you run away?” Katara pressed, taking a few steps forward as the Blue Spirit took a few back, shoulders stiff with discomfort. “Why did you help me back there? Who are you?”

A sound came from behind the mask. It was just a small little scoff, but it was something. It was ridiculous, Katara knew that, but it was comforting to hear human noises from the Blue Spirit. It was confirmation that there _was_ an actual human under there and not something supernatural.

It also sounded distinctly masculine, which piqued Katara’s interest further than it probably should have.

“Are you a boy?” she demanded, heart pounding. Part of her couldn’t believe the Blue Spirit was here in front of her, and that she’d actually caught up with them and was attempting an actual conversation.

There was a very long pause in which the Blue Spirit simply stared at her. They seemed to be weighing something.

Finally, the mask bobbed as the figure—the young man underneath—gave a quick nod.

Well. Judging by his height he was almost certainly around her age or possibly a bit older than she was. This was distinctly interesting, though Katara tried to push it away, well aware that now wasn’t exactly the time for such interests. After all, look what had happened when she had tried to indulge in a little romance on the road with Jet.

Besides, she didn’t even know what he looked like.

She did know, however, that he had stepped in to help her, so she struggled to find her voice. “Well...thank you,” said Katara, looking up at him gratefully. “You stepping in back there was really—well,” she said, raising her chin a little, “I _did_ have it handled, but it was still helpful. Thank you. Really.”

Another scoffing sound came from under the mask. He seemed to be actively amused at her assertion she'd had the situation under control, and Katara couldn’t stop the small scowl from spreading over her features. “So you never talk, or what?” she asked, coming out harsher than originally intended.

The Blue Spirit just gave a terse shake of his head before turning on his heel, clearly about to try and hurry around the dumpster on the other side and evade her, but Katara snatched his arm. “Wait! I—I wanted to ask you something since the last time I saw you. Do you remember?”

The Blue Spirit paused in his steps but did not turn around. Katara thought she sensed a stiffness in his posture.

He did not react to her question but she plunged ahead anyway, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt. “I was hoping maybe you could teach me. How to use those swords.” She gestured over his shoulders toward his back, where the double blades rested.

Slowly, the Blue Spirit turned around and stared at her.

“I could help you more in return!” Katara rushed to say, sensing that he didn’t like this idea at all. “I like how you go around the city helping people. I can help you. I shouldn’t water-bend, though. I wasn’t even really supposed to water-bend tonight, and—and anyway, I’ve wanted to learn an alternative to water-bending since before I got to the city.” Katara trailed off for a moment, thinking of how Ty Lee flew through the sky with ease, and how the contact of her fingers on Katara’s body had felt as though her muscles were crumbling to dust.

The Blue Spirit tilted their head slightly.

“It just seems,” Katara continued, a little furiously, “that those men were taking advantage of that whole shopping street, and that it might be a bigger problem. I want to help people. And the Dai Li won’t do it.”

Katara watched the Blue Spirit so long that she was certain that he was going to say no, until—

The mask tilted downward as the figure gave a curt nod. Katara’s eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together.

“Great! So where should we meet? How often? Should I—” But she stopped abruptly when the Blue Spirit came a few paces forward, their finger in the air, signaling her to wait. Katara stopped breathing when they halted right in front of her, looking at her for a long moment before they raised a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture.

They pulled away and stepped back.

“You want me to keep this a secret?” Katara guessed.

This was just bizarre. This was easily one of the strangest things she’d ever planned to do, but the thought of secretly helping people by night filled her with a fire she couldn’t quite explain. She knew she’d never be able to explain it to Sokka or Toph. They wouldn’t get it. Aang might be able to understand why she wanted something like this, but even then she would probably hear so many cautionary words, especially because of Appa…

“I will,” Katara confirmed, nodding resolutely. “I promise.”

The Blue Spirit folded his arms and stared longer.

Katara almost wanted to laugh despite her indignation, because she understood perfectly what his body language was trying to say. He didn’t believe her.

“ _Really_ ,” said Katara, arching a brow at him. “I won’t tell anyone about any of this, okay? I don’t think my brother and friends would approve of it all anyway. We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile in the city.”

The Blue Spirit watched her a moment before nodding again, and Katara saw his shoulders relax.

“I’m guessing you’re not going to actually speak to me or show your face? Or even tell me your name?” Katara asked shrewdly.

The Blue Spirit coughed, disguising another laugh, before shaking his head.

Katara huffed. “Well, fine. I don’t know what you did to the Fire Nation but it must be big if you’re this secretive. Not to mention how wanted you are in the first place. There are posters everywhere, but I’m guessing you’ve seen those.” She smiled, but his body stiffened in response to these words and Katara immediately knew she had said something wrong. “Not that I mind,” she rushed to say. “Honestly, seeing the posters and knowing you’re an enemy of the Fire Nation helps me trust you. And you did really help me out back there in that fight, so…”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence in which the Blue Spirit stared down at the ground. The rising feeling that this avenue of conversation was very unwelcome overwhelmed Katara until she felt compelled to quickly change the subject. “So, can I just call you ‘Blue’?” she asked. “I’m Katara, by the way.”

The Blue Spirit nodded slowly.

“You know,” Katara mused, “This whole ‘not speaking’ thing is going to make coordinating somewhat difficult.”

He sighed and pointed at the ground.

“Here?” guessed Katara, noting once again how entirely surreal this whole thing really was.

The Blue Spirit pointed sideways.

“Um. There?”

He growled in frustration, and then shook his head furiously, pointing more vigorously at the ground and then the sideways pointing motion, over and over. Katara watched this for a time, wondering why in the world he insisted on communicating this way when he clearly had a functioning voice, before she realized what he was trying to say. “Here, tomorrow?” she guessed again, and the Blue Spirit nodded vigorously, then flashed her two ones.

“Eleven o’clock.”

The mysterious figure gave her one final nod. His body language appeared satisfied she had gotten the message.

“Okay,” said Katara, heart speeding up again as she contemplated sneaking out of the mansion in the Upper Ring and making her way here again tomorrow night. She had no idea what the Blue Spirit had planned. Or should she plan something? Maybe for the first night she’d let him lead, especially since he was technically the one teaching her a new skill? “Should I...um, bring anything?” she continued, very uncertainly, but the Blue Spirit just shook his head.

Then, astoundingly, he bowed slightly.

Katara returned the gesture. “Well...” she said, smiling a little. “Thank you. Again. See you tomorrow?”

One more nod, and then he was moving around her, through the shadows of the alley and out of sight. Katara watched him retreat, wondering if she had gone completely crazy.

She was finally going to fight again. She was going to learn to defend herself without her bending. She was possibly going to get to take out some of her excess restlessness on criminals and help others in this city full of problems and walls and secrets, rather than passively sitting around and waiting for someone to report Appa or make an appointment with the Earth King for them. So Katara decided right then that even if this _was_ crazy, she’d embrace it for the time being.

She really needed this.

“Bye, Blue,” Katara whispered, long after he’d disappeared.

A leap of excitement jolted her gut at the thought of what tomorrow would bring.


	3. star roving.

Katara picked her way through the streets of Ba Sing Se the following night once again, though this time with a purpose.

Katara had waited some time after everyone had gone to bed before sliding out from under her covers, fully dressed in comfortable, black attire that she’d picked up earlier that day. It was very similar to what the Blue Spirit wore. She had listened carefully for a few moments. She had even heard Sokka’s faint snores coming from his room.

When she was satisfied that no one else was awake and would impede her exit Katara very quietly slipped out the front door. Her heart was hammering unevenly in her chest as she made her way to the lower ring. Once there, she kept an eye out for familiar markers and fervently hoped that she wouldn’t get lost on the way to the alley where she’d made her deal with the Blue Spirit. It was more difficult than she expected. She hadn’t exactly been paying attention to directions when she had chased him last night, so it took quite a lot of her concentration to find it again. When she arrived it didn’t appear, at first, as though the Blue Spirit was there yet.

Katara advanced into the alley. She was about halfway along when the Blue Spirit emerged from shadows to her right.

Katara jumped, letting out an involuntary little yelp of surprise. “Oh,” Katara breathed, struggling to control the pace of her breathing again after the scare, hand over her heart. “You scared me a little. How did you learn to sneak around and hide so well?”

The Blue Spirit just folded his arms and stared at her, tilting his head slightly.

“Still not speaking?” Katara guessed, and he nodded. She sighed. “Well, fine. At least you didn’t jump down at me from above. How do you get around so quickly, anyway?”

He pointed upward, toward the rooftops, and dragged a finger across the space between the two.

“What, you’re trying to say that you jump from roof to roof?” Katara stared at him, mouth hanging open a little.

He nodded again, and added a little shrug. Katara wasn’t sure why, but she imagined that he was smirking under that mask.

And then he pointed at her, and up to the rooftops again.

“Oh no,” said Katara, shaking her head. “No need for me to learn that.”

The Blue Spirit, however, nodded firmly and folded his arms again, staring at her.

“Well,” said Katara, hesitating as her eyes flicked between the rooftops. “Okay, I guess...”

He gestured toward himself, and she took this to mean that she should follow him. He led her into the deeper shadows, further from the weak lights that dotted the main streets. But when they paused they were far from even that sliver of light, bathed almost completely in darkness. At first Katara could just make out the flashes of white on the Blue Spirit’s mask when he turned to face her, but eventually her eyes adjusted and she could see his figure better, as well as her surroundings. The wall behind him was crumbling and uneven, with bricks missing. The Blue Spirit glanced at her once, seemingly making sure that she was paying attention, before he began to scale the wall.

Something told Katara that he could actually do it much faster, and that he was being deliberately slow. That way she could watch exactly where he climbed up, where he put his feet, which spots were the best to get a firm grip and not come tumbling down, the smooth way in which he maneuvered from side to side and upward. The Blue Spirit made it so easily to the top that Katara was envious. He then clung to the edges of the roof and pulled himself up with an ease that told her that under that clothing was a fair amount of muscle.

And then he immediately leaped down again; first the shorter distance to a closed dumpster before, finally, to the ground.

“Show off,” muttered Katara.

He just walked over, stood between her and the wall, and then pointed at it.

Determined to prove that she could do it just as easily as he could, she swept forward and lodged her foot into the first gap. She wrapped her fingers around the first protruding brick and hoisted herself up. Katara heard footsteps and glanced over her shoulder; the Blue Spirit was hovering below her. He nodded once, urging her on, and Katara turned back to the wall, understanding now why he had jumped down again. He was going to climb up after her, just in case she fell. She pursed her lips determinedly, eyeing her next move.

She wasn’t going to fall.

There were a couple of instances where Katara thought she was stuck, where she had to take a long time to search out her next foothold. There was also one moment where she slipped, just slightly, and for a heart-stopping moment she feared that she would go tumbling down to the ground and take the Blue Spirit with her.

But no. She made it, and hoisted herself up, and found herself standing on the rooftop, looking out over the lights and houses and the crisscrossing, chaotic pattern of the streets in Ba Sing Se. And when she looked up into the sky the waning moon was almost directly above her. Katara breathed in contently, feeling the power it put in her veins.

She turned to see that the Blue Spirit had indeed joined her on the roof, silently watching her soak in the moon. Katara flashed him a smile. “It’s nice up here,” she said.

The Blue Spirit didn’t comment, obviously. He just looked at her for a moment and then gestured to the other rooftop. Katara immediately grasped what he was trying to tell her. “You go first,” she told him, and with a brief, perfunctory nod, he complied. He set himself some paces back from the roof, and for a moment all Katara saw was the rise and fall of his shoulders, how his mask moved up and down slightly as he gauged the distance and the jump. The gap wasn’t too drastic, but Katara found herself sizing it up now too, knowing she’d have to make the jump in just a few moments.

The Blue Spirit squared his shoulders, took one last deep breath, and took off at a sprint. Katara marveled at how nimble he was; already she could tell that the uneven shingles of the rooftop were not exactly going to be easy to run across. He was very precise. Very fluid. It was obvious he had done it many times before. He maneuvered them perfectly, and right before the edge of the roof, he leaped. Katara watched as he landed, agile as a cat and in a low crouch, on the opposite roof.

He straightened and turned to face her. The mask staring at her seemed to say: _Your turn._

Katara lined herself up in the spot that he had chosen and squared her shoulders, just as he had done. She didn’t want to give herself too much time to think or look at what she was jumping. It wasn’t that she was afraid of heights necessarily. She was fine on Appa’s back. And she had ridden large waves of her own water-bending, high above the ground, or been in the air for fighting. No, generally Katara wasn’t afraid of heights.

And so she steeled herself, took one last deep breath, and copied the Blue Spirit’s movements into a sprint.

She let her feet break from the edge at the last moment, having also deftly dodged the shingles of the roof. She was thankful that she didn’t trip. She had good momentum but she was shorter than he was, and she had never done it before, so for a terrifying moment she wasn’t sure that she was going to make it.

She watched the other roof approaching, drawing nearer and nearer as she flew through the air. But it didn’t seem near enough, and suddenly she was convinced she’d fall—

But her feet caught the other roof. She stumbled; she hadn’t landed far from the edge, and now she was wavering, struggling to keep her balance and not go tumbling off. Before she knew it, the Blue Spirit was at her side and his hand was closed around her wrist, pulling her away from the edge.

Katara stumbled again, surprised, and found herself practically collapsed on his chest.

It lasted all of two seconds, but that was long enough for Katara to confirm her belief that he was abnormally strong. He hadn’t moved at all as she bowled clumsily into him. He was sure and steady, his chest hard. It was almost like crashing into a rock. “Sorry,” she gasped, pleased she had made it but rather irritated with her own lack of grace. She was also a little flustered about the proximity to him, but she determinedly tried not to think about that.

 _Remember Jet_ , her mind chanted faintly.

His hand was still on her wrist as she straightened up. When he let go, he gave her a nod. Katara took that to mean that he was satisfied with her performance.

He pointed across the roof, toward the next one, and this time it was Katara who simply nodded.

She watched him retreat as he sprinted away, take another flying leap, and land once more with ease on the opposite rooftop. Katara wasted less time following him this time. She was more confident after the first one, and besides, she could see that this jump was going to be easier. It was smaller, and the rooftop she was heading toward was lower than this one, meaning that her momentum would carry her further. And sure enough, when he turned to watch and she followed, she cleared it with ease.

Another nod. Katara was beginning to recognize that this was indeed his way of praising her.

“I want to learn to fight,” she told him. “Can’t we do some of that today?”

The Blue Spirit stared at her for a long moment, and then walked toward her. And then he stared a bit more. He seemed to be appraising her, sizing her up, and his scrutiny was making her a little self-conscious. And then he stepped forward, and placed his hand under her chin.

Katara knew that he was tilting her chin up to correct her posture, but regardless, her stomach twisted into knots that were both uncomfortable and pleasant. The Blue Spirit changed little things; he squared her shoulders again, and then circled her, and once he was standing in front of her again he used his feet to nudge hers slightly apart. And then he stood across from her in a similar position—he bent his knees and set his center of gravity lower, making the movement highly exaggerated so that she would get the hint that she was to copy him.

“Don’t we need a sword?” Katara asked. “And shouldn’t we go down to the ground?”

The Blue Spirit just shook his head. And then he pointed at himself and did a small series of movements.

They were just basic steps, precursors to more complicated fighting techniques. It was almost as though he was dancing. It was fascinating. He seemed to instinctively know where to step on the roof tiles, and the way his limbs moved seemed so effortless that all Katara could do was stare in awe.

Katara was no stranger to fighting moves, of course, but this was rather different than her usual water-bending style. The movements were indeed very fluid as hers were, but there was also a quick, harsh precision she wasn’t accustomed to; occasional jabs or chopping motions with the arms, or exaggerated, short steps with the feet. When his feet slid across the shingles his legs were wide and set, unlike her water-bending stance.

The Blue Spirit spun a final time and then stopped in a position with his arms blocking his face. He dropped them and straightened up.

And then he pointed at Katara.

It was so strange that even though he didn’t speak she understood what he was doing perfectly. Or, more accurately, she already understood why he was having her do this, somehow having answered her earlier questions without saying a word. Perhaps it was because she was already familiar with combative movements.

But she knew, now that she was about to try and perform the sequence herself, that being up on the roof made her pay extra attention to her feet. She couldn’t afford to be clumsy due to the unevenness of the terrain, nor could she be careless. She had to be careful and precise, something that matched his stealthy style exactly. And she also knew why they didn’t have a sword yet. She’d been overeager. First she had to learn to step in a way that sword fighters step; specifically, the way a fighter that works with dao swords steps.

But there was another thing that was strange that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It had to do with his movements.

They were…familiar.

They reminded her of something, but she didn’t know what.

Katara took one more deep breath and began.

She felt very self-conscious with his eyes on her the whole time, even if she couldn’t see them. And she was distinctly aware that her movements weren’t smooth, and that she'd gotten a few of the steps wrong. She had to concentrate on keeping her balance on the angle of the roof more than she’d planned.

When she’d finished, she finally gathered the courage to look at him.

It was actually quite nice, not having a facial expression to read. She didn’t have the chance to desperately try and read it, to judge how she had done.

The Blue Spirit just gestured toward her with a palm open.

“Again?” Katara asked, and he nodded.

She did the sequence three times before he seemed to be satisfied. And then he showed her another.

After that he came and stood before her again, got into fighting stance, and put up his arms.

And again, Katara understood what he wanted without him needing to speak. He wanted to spar with her.

She wasn’t sure how long it went on, but she had a feeling it was a long time. The Blue Spirit first would aim slow, predictable jabs or punches at her, toward her face or stomach, and let her block. He’d then wordlessly arrange her arms and correct her technique, and start over. Soon they were running through sequences where he was moving faster, and throwing punch after punch, not trying anything new until Katara had blocked him perfectly.

When their movements felt so aligned they were like a dance, he’d add something else. First it was kicks. Then it was spins. And eventually, what was probably hours later, Katara was blocking him in unscripted sequences and once even tried to pull a jab of her own. That did not end well—he’d easily caught her fist in his hand, twisting it slightly so he could get control of the other one, and held her very still. She struggled, but couldn’t get loose.

But she always tried again.

Still, the focus tonight was mostly on blocking, and Katara felt she was a quick learner. The Blue Spirit must have agreed, because by the end he wasn’t correcting her stances or technique at all. Katara’s eyes were burning with exhaustion by the time they stopped. She hadn’t even realized how tired she was.

The Blue Spirit bowed, and Katara bowed back.

“How’d I do?” she asked, unable to help herself.

He gave her a thumbs up, and she grinned. “Thanks. Can we meet again soon?”

The Blue Spirit nodded, and then flashed the number two at her, though he tilted his head to let her know it was a question. Katara was already getting very good at understanding his wordless gestures. “Two nights from now?” Katara confirmed, and when he nodded she said, “Yes. Okay. Same place?”

He confirmed this with a final nod, and then gestured for her to follow him so they could find a way down from the rooftop. They dropped into an unfamiliar alley, and when Katara stood again, brushing herself off, the Blue Spirit gave an awkward little wave and turned on his heel to slip away.

Katara smiled again. “Bye,” she called after him, though quietly, because the city was finally falling asleep.

The nearby streets were almost silent, eerily so. It must have been later than she’d realized.

She’d loved it all; even the frustrating, difficult parts.

She hoped the others would let her sleep in tomorrow.

* * *

Over the next three weeks, Katara met with the Blue Spirit regularly.

The procedure every night that she did so was essentially the same. She waited until she was sure that the others were sleeping, sneaked quietly out, and made her way to the alley that had become their meeting spot. They wouldn’t speak much—and he never spoke at all—but they would always find a place to fight.

This was the part of the night that varied. For the first few meetings they had sparred exclusively without weapons, just like the first night on the roof. They focused on blocks and steps and dodges, and he corrected her form and showed her different ways to throw a punch or aim a kick, and they would drill the moves over and over and over until Katara got the feeling he wanted her to be able to perform them in her sleep.

After that, one night, he brought two wooden swords.

Katara worked with those for nearly a week, at first without the Blue Spirit and just copying moves and steps and swings that he demonstrated. And then she graduated to sparring with him, learning how to circle and block and attack and parry. Fighting with him felt so natural. His refusal to speak to her did not hinder their mutual understanding. Even with swords, it was like a well-choreographed dance.

Her water-bending fighting did help her, but she’d half feared that she wouldn’t be able to learn combat like this as she had learned water-bending. The water-bending, after a bit of a slow beginning, had been so natural. It had come to her so quickly. And she had worried that wouldn’t be the case with sword-fighting or hand-to-hand combat; she had been concerned that she was only able to learn the fighting that had been in her blood.

But, to her delight, Katara realized that she’d been wrong. She was fast becoming a natural. And every time that the Blue Spirit gave her his usual nod, she would feel a swell of pride.

When she moved on to the real swords, they proceeded more cautiously. It took Katara some time before she could properly swing them as she had the wooden ones—they were far heavier than she expected. Seeing the Blue Spirit use them almost made them seem weightless, but looks were deceiving. He was strong, and the swords were difficult to manage. But Katara was strong, too, and she was also determined.

Eventually her moves were less stilted, and her arms didn’t ache for days after a training session, and she could do some of the things that she could do with the wooden swords.

Katara could now concentrate on other things.

She already knew from water-bending how to study her opponent. She knew to watch them for potential weaknesses, slight tells that indicated a preferred side or a previous injury. She knew to watch for moves that they performed often, to find a way to make them more predictable and thus beatable.

The Blue Spirit was unnaturally good at being unpredictable. But Katara began to notice something as they sparred. Whenever she swooped in on him from the right, he was slightly slower to react. His left side was weaker. He hid it well, and that was why Katara was even more pleased that she’d discovered it.

She began to exploit it immediately and without hesitation the night she realized it, coming at him from his left with a barrage of aggressive attacks. She’d feign the other way but always go right, or else try and get behind him and attack from his bad side. For once, Katara felt like she was the one actually attacking rather than either blocking or just keeping up—which, until now, had been their dynamic when they sparred.

After about ten minutes of this, they paused to catch their breath.

The Blue Spirit watched her for so long that she felt self-conscious.

“What?” Katara asked, feeling a little smug.

He just shrugged, and they rested a bit longer before starting again.

* * *

Another two weeks later, when Katara came to the regular meeting place, the Blue Spirit was holding something.

When she came closer he thrust it at her and she took it, blinking in surprise.

It was a mask. It was white, except for the red flames licking the sides and curling onto the cheeks and forehead. But the thing that really stuck out to Katara was the half moon painted on the forehead.

A wide smile spread slowly across her face. “Does this mean what I think it means?” She looked back up at him eagerly. His arms were folded and he was, as usual, watching her silently. “We’re going to fight for real now?”

When he nodded, Katara grinned wider. “Great,” she said, a sudden thrill running through her at the prospect of using the new skills she’d acquired on people that used their power to terrorize others, like those men harassing the shop owners for payment. “I’m ready. And thanks for the mask,” she said.

She took a small step forward, resisting the urge to put her hand on his shoulder. He seemed to like keeping a careful distance from her when they weren’t fighting. “Are you sure I can’t see underneath yours?”

The Blue Spirit stiffened before very curtly shaking his head.

“Well okay, Mr. Mysterious,” said Katara lightly, though her heart was sinking. She’d hoped—perhaps naively—that he’d reveal his face to her after they’d spent so much time together. Even if the time was mostly spent sparring each other and hardly speaking, she was beginning to think of him as a friend. “So are we doing this tonight?”

He just pointed at her. Katara knew exactly what he meant.

“Yeah. I want to if you do,” she confirmed, feeling that thrill of anticipation again. There was also a bit of nerves, but she pushed those away. There was always her water-bending to fall back on in dire emergencies.

The Blue Spirit pointed at the roof, and Katara understood that he had something in mind.

“I’ll follow you,” she told him, nodding.

As he began expertly scaling the wall she tucked her mask on and followed suit, feeling the weight of the dao swords resting on her back, the rapid beating of her heart, and the pulse jumping out of her neck at the prospect of her first real fight. When he had hoisted himself up to the roof, the Blue Spirit turned and helped pull her up, even though she’d done it plenty of times without his help. They stood there for a moment, looking at each other.

It was the first time they were going to work as a team. Katara wasn’t worried. It was astounding, to her at least, how in sync they were when they fought, and how well she understood him despite the lack of words.

She just wished she knew what he was thinking.

He surprised her by very briefly reaching up and touching her mask. It was stupid, but her breath caught just by this simple gesture. He adjusted it, making sure it covered her face properly.

And then he gave her a brief nod, turned, and darted off across the roof.

Katara set off into a sprint after him.

* * *

Their first night was successful.

The Blue Spirit had led her to one of the seediest streets she’d ever seen, and from there it was only a matter of time before criminals revealed themselves—mostly thieves. Katara and the Blue Spirit took down three individual thieves that had been trying to take money from citizens. Those were easy. Seeing Katara in her mask and the Blue Spirit beside her had mostly been enough to send them running. Then there had been a bigger group, and they had been more bold; it had led to a real fight.

Though Katara went on the offensive a few times, she mostly had to concentrate on defense. She was still a bit clumsy with the heavier dao swords, so she blocked and dodged and let the Blue Spirit do all the knocking out. She considered it a success, though, after only a few weeks of real training; there had only been one mishap. When her opponent had slashed his sword Katara had been just a few seconds too late in jumping back, and so the tip had nicked her upper arm. The cut stung, but Katara didn’t stop.

The Blue Spirit stepped in to help her finish the job, and soon they had the man on his back, Blue’s dao swords pointed menacingly at his chest.

“If you keep robbing innocent citizens,” said Katara, making sure to radiate her voice powerfully from under the mask and sound as fierce as possible, “Next time will be _much_ worse.” And with that they left the man lying there, staring indignantly after them. Katara felt more powerful than she had in ages, so pleased with herself that even the dull throb on her arm wasn’t really bothering her.

She and the Blue Spirit climbed up to a rooftop and sat, catching their breath, basking in their success.

After a few moments Katara bent water out of her pouch to cover her hand, ripped the fabric of her shirt, and held it to the injury on her upper arm. Her arm was still twinging a little afterward, but a second healing session should eliminate the cut entirely. Thankfully she’d been quick enough, and it hadn’t been too deep.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Blue Spirit gesturing. When she looked over, she saw that he was pointing at her injury, and tilted his head as a show of inquiry. “It’s fine,” said Katara, smiling at him as she finished up and bent the water back into her pouch. “It was a really shallow cut. The sword only grazed me.” And then she shifted to lay on her back with a little sigh. The ridges of the roof dug into her shoulder blades, but she couldn’t bring herself to care that much right now.

It had been _so_ good to do something like this again, even if she’d mostly just distracted one man while the Blue Spirit had done the rest of the job. The adrenaline of the evening’s work had her tired, and for a moment she just enjoyed the twinkling lights above her.

She wondered if her tribe in the South Pole were doing the same, just with a different sky.

And the stars above her were so pretty.

Here, within the walls of Ba Sing Se, she hadn’t had many nights where she could just pause to look up at them. And on the run with Aang and Sokka and Toph, the stars had been much easier to see. She missed their camping. She missed the movement and having a goal.

What she was doing with the Blue Spirit was helping, but it wasn’t quite the same.

Katara heard him shift beside her. When she peeked over she saw that he, too, was lying on his back, staring up at the night sky. “I know I wasn’t much help tonight,” she admitted. “But I still really liked it.” The Blue Spirit glanced over; and then he shook his head and gave her a thumbs up.

A warm feeling of pride filled her. It was silent again for a while; but then, before she knew it, Katara was speaking again. “I probably shouldn’t even be here,” said Katara, sighing. “My brother asked me yesterday why I seem so tired all the time. Toph has heard me going in and out in the night. She hears _everything_. She thinks I have a secret boyfriend that I’m sneaking out to meet.” She let out a nervous little laugh, chancing a glance over at him again. He had gone very still, but his mask was still turned up toward the stars. “It’s strange,” continued Katara, clearing her throat and fixing her gaze on a particularly bright star directly above her and feeling very fluttery all the sudden, “But I don’t think I want to tell my friends about this. Even if I hadn’t promised you, I still don’t think I would. It’s like—my own secret, I guess. Just something for me. Just something I’d have to explain, you know?”

She paused, trying to gather her thoughts, and to identify the churning feeling that was currently invading her stomach. “I guess,” she said, her voice getting a little lower and trembling slightly, “since I started fighting and really learning to bend, it’s been an outlet. I felt really helpless and angry growing up. Watching all the Fire Nation raids. Now I can fight back, and I have been. But in Ba Sing Se we’re waiting on others to act, and...”

She trailed off, and became aware of the eyes watching her behind the mask. Even if she wasn’t looking and could never even see his eyes, she knew that he was. She glanced over again and indeed, his head was turned to the side, looking at her.

“It’s just hard,” Katara finished, swallowing. “But you must know that. The Fire Nation must have done something to you, too. Is that why you do this?”

He just stared at her for a long time. Katara’s eyes swept over him, detecting a fair amount of tension in his body language—before finally nodding slowly and resuming his thoughtful observation of the stars.

“Yeah,” said Katara softly, still watching him. “I thought so.”

She hesitated before speaking again. Whenever she got even relatively close to a personal question, she noticed that familiar discomfort in his posture. Katara had gotten very good at reading body language the past weeks, hanging out with Blue. It was necessary when she didn’t have a face to rely on in order to gauge the emotions of the person she was speaking to. “So...how old are you?”

His head turned. And then he helped up one finger, followed by a six.

“Sixteen?”

Blue nodded and held up his fingers in a “little bit” gesture.

“Just for a little while? You haven’t been sixteen for long?” Katara guessed.

He shook his head.

“Oh. Then you mean that you only have a little bit of time left, and then you’re seventeen?”

The Blue Spirit nodded. And then his head tilted, and he gestured toward her.

Katara smiled. Unless she was remembering incorrectly, it was the first time that he’d asked her to volunteer information about herself. Obviously, Katara did all of the talking when any words were exchanged. But overall they spent their time fighting, mostly in silence.

Tonight, she realized, was the first time she’d _really_ talked to him about herself.

“I turned fifteen recently,” said Katara, peering at the sky again.

Her eyes found the moon, something she did every night, no matter where she was. The moon, unlike the stars, was still easy to see, even among the lights of the populated city. Tonight, however, it was better to be on the rooftop to fully appreciate it. It was a new moon.

“My birthday was a little insane,” she admitted. “I didn’t even realize it had passed until…a few days later, I think.”

Katara heard Blue shift and sit up.

When she glanced over, his knees were tucked to his chest and he was half turned toward her, clearly giving her an indication that he was listening.

“I was out in the desert,” she explained, also slowly sitting up, though she was now staring over the rooftops of the city. I

n the distance the wall of Ba Sing Se was visible, and Katara’s mind flew to the battle there with the drill, and how the Earth King still knew nothing about it, and how she and her friends could only helplessly wait to speak with him.

And suddenly, Katara felt so, so tired.

Not physically, which was saying something, considering all the fighting that evening. No. Just...mentally. The exhaustion went right into her bones.

“My friends and I went to find this special library,” she told him, her voice lower now, fidgeting with her sleeves as she spoke. “And things got really bad out there. We barely made it out alive because the library was underground, and it was sinking, and then Appa got stolen...”

Katara’s eyes went glassy as she remembered.

“I’ve never seen Aang like that before. But Appa—um, that’s Aang’s sky bison—has been with him since he was a baby. It’s a lifetime bond. And the Fire Nation killed all his people. His whole culture...Appa was the only thing he had left. He lost his temper with Toph, because she chose to keep the library from sinking and save us rather than save Appa. She couldn’t do both, it wasn’t her fault, but he blamed her, and then he flew off and we had to try and keep pressing forward. And for a while I just felt really alone. Even when Aang came back, he was so angry for a while. Toph was blind—well, I mean, she’s always blind, but she normally sees with her feet. It’s really cool, actually. Normally she sees things we can’t, but not in the sand. And my brother, Sokka...”

Katara sighed, shaking her head half with affection and half exasperation. “He is _so_ smart, and he always makes good plans, but sometimes he just does the dumbest things. He drank cactus juice and was _way_ out of his mind the entire time.”

There was a low chuckle beside her, and Katara flashed him a look. Feeling pleased that her story was allowing her to connect with him in some way and that she’d managed to amuse him, Katara pressed on, scooting just a little bit closer to him across the rooftop. “Well, anyway, that meant Sokka was actively unhelpful out there. And then there was the issue with the water. We only had a little, and of course I had to try and ration it for drinking, but I needed water to bend since no one with me could bend...my brother can’t...Toph couldn’t…Aang was gone...”

Katara watched the Blue Spirit for a long moment before scooting another tentative inch closer. “It’s really nice of you to help teach me other types of fighting,” Katara said softly. “That time in the desert made me feel really...vulnerable. And before that, I had an encounter with someone who could briefly take away my bending...”

Katara shuddered, looking out over the rooftops as she again remembered Ty Lee soaring through the air toward her, and the sharp feeling that had zapped up the nerves in her arms where Ty Lee’s fingers jabbed her. The image and feeling was something that returned to her often, and it never got less terrifying.

“Well,” said Katara finally, throwing him a small smile, “I didn’t want to feel helpless without my bending like that ever again. So thank you. And thank you for listening to me talk about all this.” Katara leaned forward, reaching out to touch his arm, but she saw how he stiffened and recoiled, so she withdrew her hand.

There was a long pause in which Katara stared down at the rooftop, feeling a little hurt. Still, despite her now quickly beating heart and the disappointment, Katara said shyly, “It’s strange. I’ve never seen you or even heard your voice, but I almost feel like—it’s like I already know you, I guess. Like we’re friends.”

The silence in the pause was deafening.

Then, abruptly, the Blue Spirit got to his feet.

Katara just stared up at him, eyes wide, wondering what he looked like behind that mask that was observing her, wondering what he was thinking, what he was hiding…

Without a word—which was hardly unsurprising—he held out a hand for Katara to take.

She took this to mean that the night was over and that he was taking his leave from her, and she hoped that she was successful in keeping her face from looking too crestfallen. He didn’t seem to reciprocate her warm feelings of at least tentative friendship. But Katara had a feeling that she didn’t manage it as well as she had liked, and perhaps that he had noticed. Because although the Blue Spirit indeed began to lead her over to the spot where they could most easily clamber down the side of the building and head home, he also gave her hand a light squeeze on the way, so quick and gentle that Katara easily could have missed it.

Katara looked up and over at him. He wasn’t looking at her, but determinedly forward.

Katara desperately wished for the hundredth time that she could see his face, but she didn’t dare ask. She could tell that she’d already pushed the personal boundaries for the night. She just allowed him to guide her carefully through the darkness, over the uneven rooftop.


	4. the world is not enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up: this chapter contains the fight scene related violence, including injuries and blood.

Later, Katara would look back on the next couple of weeks as some of the happiest she had in Ba Sing Se.

By day she and her friends searched for Appa, though secretly, doing their best to keep their activities and movements quiet from Dai Li agents. This was easier said than done. Katara could tell that Aang was beginning to get frustrated. Hhe was getting moodier, picking at the food on his plate during meal times, and a frown marred his usually bright face more often than it ever had before. Toph, too, was getting irritable being trapped in the city with the rules she hated. Sokka was doing the best out of all of them, besides Katara. But Katara knew that if she would not have her nighttime adventures and her powerful alter ego she would be much worse off.

And so when they weren’t looking for Appa they all did fun things together.

They went to parks, and to plays, and ate at as many restaurants as they could without blowing their budget, determined to lift the melancholy mood that had settled in like a thick fog over their group. Powerlessness and helplessness did very strange things to the mind.

Her excursions every couple of nights with the Blue Spirit were so important, she suspected, because they gave her a form of power. Another thing they gave her, of course, was a new skill. Each time they fought or intimidated criminals, Katara found that she was more and more confident with her dao swords. She was still nothing like the Blue Spirit—she suspected it would take years to get to that point—but for a beginner, she could hold her own.

Being a secret vigilante gave her a type of pride and thrill that she could not get by day.

And the more time she spent with the Blue Spirit, the more she wanted to know him.

* * *

Later, Katara would look back on this specific night as the night where things went wrong, the night were she made two nearly catastrophic mistakes that changed the almost-happy rhythm she had fallen into in Ba Sing Se.

The first thing that happened was that she was later than usual getting out of their home in the upper ring. Her friends had wanted to stay up later that night, a night she was set to meet with Blue, and she’d had no choice but to wait and hope that they would soon go off to bed. By the time they did, it was already approaching her meeting time; and then she had to wait, to be safe, and finally, she could make her way all the way to the meeting spot.

And so it was in a rush that Katara left the upper ring for the lower, and she still arrived very late.

And it was this rush that made Katara commit her first grave mistake—though she wouldn’t realize until later.

The Blue Spirit was leaning against the wall as he almost always was, and he straightened when he saw Katara come hurrying into the alley and skid to a stop in front of him. “Sorry,” she panted, slipping out her mask and putting it on. “My friends wanted a bit of a late night. I couldn’t get away until later.”

He just shrugged. Katara took that to mean he didn’t mind too much, and they fell into their usual pattern. Sometimes they used the rooftops to get around and find someone to apprehend and sometimes they kept to the streets; tonight it was the rooftops. It normally didn’t take long before they found crime somewhere—the lower ring was overflowing with it. Katara pitied those that had to live here and never got to leave.

They darted or they jumped, keeping their eyes peeled and their ears open for trouble, but tonight was stiller than usual, especially as they came nearer to the business and warehouse district in the lower ring.

Some time had passed before Katara heard a shout that made her feel uneasy.

“--wasn’t a part of it, I swear—”

Blue was in front of her, and she saw him falter and then slow down, clearly having heard it, too. Together, they crept toward the edge of the rooftop and peered down.

In the almost deserted street below, three Dai Li agents were carrying a man toward a waiting wagon in the darkness. Katara leaned forward further, horrified, watching as they tossed him inside.

“--never said there was a war! I’m not a war conspiracy theorist, I’m _not_ —no, no, _wait—please_!”

But they were dragging him away, hands clapping over his mouth, and the sound of his protests ceased.

Something that Katara had heard weeks ago flitted through her mind, something spoken by a wizened old man, the shopkeeper that she had tried to protect the very day that she had teamed up with the Blue Spirit.

… _Business is hard, people are disappearing…_

Here Katara committed her other mistake: she started to go after them.

She reacted without thinking, letting her rage with the Dai Li fuel her; the unfairness of it all, this slum in the middle of a city so clearly able to provide for its citizens, the silencing, and the chilling power they had over it all. It was wrong, and it was the reason that she and her friends were trapped here, unable to speak to the King.

Katara began to move along the roof, trying to find a spot to jump down.

She heard the Blue Spirit also moving behind her, his footsteps quick and purposeful, but she had leaped down without turning to look at him, or else she would have seen how he tried to stop her by reaching for her wrist. She did, however, hear his frustrated groan just as she jumped.

Still, he fell into a run beside her once they were both on the ground. He did not try to stop her.

They waited to strike until a few streets later. Katara had learned from Blue that sometimes the best time to attack wasn’t right away. That sometimes it was better to follow, to get somewhere more secluded. And indeed, the Dai Li were going deeper into the warehouse district. Katara’s heart was beating erratically in her chest, and it wasn’t just from the running. Perhaps she would find out where the Dai Li were keeping their prisoners.

Perhaps she could free them all, those poor people that dared to try and spread the truth.

Invigorated and determined, Katara picked up her pace.

When she caught up with them, she descended upon the Dai Li with a formidable fury.

They were far more dangerous than others they have come up against.

One of the agents began hurling rocks at her at a dizzying speed but Katara evaded successfully, jumping left and right and spinning and ducking, using her swords to block, coming ever nearer to him. For a while, they just fought—it mostly consisted of Katara avoiding capture, as her opponent sent those rock fists toward her multiple times to try and subdue her. Katara tried in vain to break through around shields of rock that the agent threw up whenever she got too close. She was unable to really go on the offensive, unable to strike at all, and she was furious about it, seething that she couldn't water-bend, uncertain how to best an Earth bender with only swords.

From the glances she was able to spare, it seemed the Blue Spirit was doing fine. But the Earth-bending Dai Li had huge advantages, not to mention daggers on their belts, and the fight went on and on and on until—

There was a loud, terrible yell, as though the person doing it had been set aflame.

A chill ran down Katara’s spine and she whirled to look; but she already knew, instinctively, that it had come from the Blue Spirit. His feet were pinned under two rocks, and there was a dagger in his left thigh.

It was deep—all the way to the hilt.

Katara’s very brief moment of searching out her friend cost her.

Her opponent sent those horrible rock cuffs at her again, and she had to duck to avoid them, gasping, trying not to let the sounds of agony coming from her left make her falter again. She had to win, now more than ever. She had to win quickly, she had to get to Blue, she had to take out the agents, had to heal him.

And so she threw all caution to the winds and reached to unscrew her water pouch on her hip, now prepared to unleash a full-blown water-bending attack.

Except it wasn’t there.

Another chill ran down her spine and she froze briefly as she realized that she’d been so focused on getting out for the night that she’d _forgotten her water pouch_.

For a few seconds she was too dumbfounded to process it.

It was by far one of the stupidest, most careless things she’d _ever_ done.

“No,” she gasped, and the Dai Li agent used the time to lunge forward, sending another rock her direction. When Katara barely managed to evade it, he seemed to decide on brute strength. His hands wrapped around her hair.

He pulled. Hard.

Katara let out a pained cry. It felt like he was tearing her scalp.

Through watering eyes, she saw Blue slumped on the floor against the wall, clutching at his leg and making choked noises of anguish.

And she saw the second Dai Li agent turn his back on Blue and start heading for Katara instead, eyes aflame at the prospect of subduing and capturing both of their victims. The Dai Li agent gripping her hair pulled again, this time off to the side, forcing her to stagger off several steps. “Some more war conspirators?” he growled into her ear. “Or something much worse? I suppose we’ll find out…”

But the Blue Spirit had inched a few feet toward them on the ground, unnoticed by the Dai Li agents. He looked up, and for a moment, Katara stared at his mask, and he was staring right back. And she just understood what he was about to do, though she wanted to shout no, don’t do it, don’t, you’re going to bleed out, Blue, no, _no_ —

But he did. He wrenched the dagger out of his thigh, his howl of pain cutting excruciatingly through the air, and tossed it toward her with his last remaining strength before slumping down again.

Katara leaned forward to catch it, wincing as she felt the inevitable ripping on her scalp as she pulled against the hold of the Dai Li agent on her hair. By some miracle, she managed to catch the dagger, though by the blade, and she gasped as it cut into her palm.

She could feel the warmth of blood on her hands, but she ignored it.

With one smooth, chopping motion, she turned and cut off her hair as high as she could reach, and then went tumbling forward when it caused the agent to lose his forceful grip on her.

The second Dai Li agent was already lunging toward her.

Desperately, Katara bent all the sweat off her face and sent it at him in the form of daggers. She was lucky—they caught his uniform and he was successfully pinned to the wall. “What the—?” she heard him exclaim furiously, but Katara was too busy focusing on the other agent, now behind her. She whirled, ducking again as she heard the whistling of more rocks, and she narrowly dodged that attack.

“A water-bender, eh?” he spat, preparing to launch something else at her.

But it was his own sweat Katara bent this time, the droplets forming in the air right in front of him before Katara froze them and sent them pelting at his face. He put his arms up to block the miniature daggers, and Katara recycled, bringing them back up and sending them at him once more while he was distracted. This time she pinned him just as she pinned the other: by his uniform, tacked against the wall.

She hurried forward and used some of their own rock cuffs to wrap around their wrists.

One of them spat on her. Under normal circumstances, she would care much more about that.

Right now, she just turned away. Katara heard them both struggling, but she didn’t waste any more time. She rushed to Blue’s side.

“Oh no,” she whispered, frantically gripping his shoulders.

There was so much blood. It made Katara’s stomach roll. She felt weak. “ _Blue_? Blue, can you hear me?”

The Blue Spirit just let out a very weak groan. He was conscious, but only barely.

She needed water. _Water_. She needed water if she was going to save him.

But she didn’t have any.

Panic settled in. Dark spots appeared on the edges of her vision. She had a few minutes, tops, before the Blue Spirit’s blood loss would kill him. She hadn’t done enough healing to see something quite like this before, but she instinctively knew this, especially after seeing just how much he was bleeding.

 _He never should have taken out that dagger_ , Katara thought, feeling more nauseous by the second.

She tried not to let herself feel the dread or the fear that was rising up like bile in her throat, making everything feel so surreal. It was almost as if she were in a dream. No—a nightmare. And then an idea occurred to her. She walked right up and took the other dagger from the incapacitated Dai Li, still ignoring their struggling and insults. She was far too focused on what she now knew that she had to do to pay them any real attention. She quickly knelt again by the Blue Spirit’s side.

So much blood. It was so _red_. The color was everywhere. The metallic, tangy smell of it was in the air, and it hit her much harder now that she was briefly away and had returned to it. It made her dizzy. She wanted to vomit.

She felt entirely out of her element, but she didn’t want the Blue Spirit to know that, so she tried to set her face to something that resembled confidence. On the off chance that he could see her, that is. She had no way of knowing how lucid he was, or even if he was still conscious.

She found out that he was when she took a deep breath and brought the blade up to her other hand, because he let out a very weak noise of protest and tried to reach for it, though his arm didn't get far. Katara gently but quickly pushed his arm back down. “It’s okay. Just relax. I’m going to heal you, Blue.” She was breathing so hard. She hoped that he didn’t notice how terrified she was.

_Blood and water. Water and blood. It’s almost the same. You can save him with blood._

With one short slice she cut her hand open, right on the palm. She didn’t focus on the sting of pain now throbbing in both of her palms. She only brought her hands down to the Blue Spirit’s wound and summoned her healing energy, watching with wide eyes, hoping, praying that she would see the telltale glow…

For a few heart-stopping seconds she didn’t see it, and she was convinced her idea wouldn’t work.

But then she saw it.

It was _working_.

Instead of water, she was healing him with blood. Her blood, specifically. She was using it to close the wound and infuse him with blood that he’d lost. It felt so very different from her other healing. Healing with water felt cool and soothing. Healing with blood was warmer. More visceral.

It also healed quicker, though Katara wasn’t sure if that was because of the nature of the injury.

Just like with water she could feel the injury fixing itself; she could feel inside, under his skin, feel how the injury was closing up and how the damaged tissue inside was repairing itself. She could feel the flow of her own blood, too, the transfer of it to him, and she could control how much or how little she wanted to give.

He lost a lot. So she gave and gave and gave, and she didn’t realize that she may be going too far until the Blue Spirit’s arm shot out to tightly grip her wrist. She blinked and swayed a little, surprised by how quickly he had moved, surprised by how light-headed she suddenly felt. She had been crouching over him, but she toppled off to the side, landing hard on the ground and squinting at his leg, trying not to notice how dizzy she was.

The injury looked good. He was going to live. She had been quick enough. She’d saved him.

Katara breathed a sigh of relief and ripped her shirt sleeves off in order to wrap her hands and his leg. The Blue Spirit just watched her do so, and when she was done he already struggled to stand up, using the wall behind him for leverage. Katara wanted to tell him to rest, but she knew he couldn’t, not yet. They needed to get away from the Dai Li agents. Besides, she felt very tired, and speaking would only use up valuable energy. And so she stood, too, a little wobbly on her feet, and stumbled closer to the Blue Spirit. They wrapped one arm around the other for mutual support and began to move away, as fast as they could go.

Katara tried not to lean on him too much—she could feel how badly he was limping, and she could hear his jaw clenching under that mask—but the world was spinning from her own blood loss, the ground tilting and swirling, and she was more shaky than she’d like.

They made it out of the warehouse district. She let the Blue Spirit lead the way; he still knew the lower ring better than she did.

They were back in a residential area, back in a small side street. It took her a moment to realize they were behind a small stable. The smell was awful, but the street was bathed in darkness and empty and, best of all, there were buckets of water nearby. They settled in behind them with some difficulty, and then Katara wasted no time swirling some water out of the buckets to heal her hands. And then she summoned more to continue her healing work on the Blue Spirit’s leg, blinking rapidly against the sudden wave of drowsiness that overcame ever.

“Are you okay?” Katara whispered, pushing her mask off her face to get fresh air and wake herself up.

The mask bobbed as he nodded, and Katara breathed a sigh of relief.

He pointed at her.

“Yeah,” said Katara, giving him a small, tired smile. “I am too. Just a little…worn out. And dizzy. I think I gave you quite a lot of blood. It was my first time doing that, but I think it may have actually healed you better than if I had water. I don’t think you could have walked so fast otherwise. But I didn’t even know if it would work, using blood like that. I figured it was probably better not to mention that at the time, though.”

The Blue Spirit actually gave a low chuckle. He watched her heal him for a moment before he shifted very stiffly to sit up, grabbed her wrist, and shook it very gently, staring at her intently. She knew what he was trying to say. “You don’t need to thank me,” said Katara softly. “Really. This was all my fault to begin with.”

He began to shake his head, but she just rolled her eyes. “It was. You know it was. I shouldn’t have gone after the Dai Li. I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry. And I also _forgot_ my water pouch tonight.” She shook her head in exasperation, still thunderstruck. “I’ve _never_ forgotten my water pouch.”

His injury looked like it was a few days old now rather than less than half an hour.

She stopped healing him to take a break, breathing a sigh of relief and leaning against the wall. The Blue Spirit squeezed her wrist. And then he pointed at her head, and Katara suddenly remembered.

“Oh, god,” she said, a wave of horror making her eyes widen. Her hair.

She reached up to touch the ends. She’d cut it just barely past the shoulders. One side was much longer than the other, and the ends were rough and ragged. “How bad is it?” she asked him. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” Another light chuckle came from under the mask, but he shook his head. “Liar,” said Katara, and he laughed quietly again. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m just—” She stopped.

Powerful emotion had built up in her throat without any warning, making it difficult to speak. “I’m just _really_ glad you’re okay,” she finished in a low murmur, staring at the mask that has become so familiar to her.

On impulse, though still carefully, she flung her arms around his neck and hugged herself to his chest. She felt his body go rigid in surprise underneath her. “Sorry,” whispered Katara into his shirt. It was only then that Katara realized that she was still shaking. “I was just so worried about you.” After a few moments she reluctantly began to pull away, since his body language suggested he wasn’t entirely comfortable with this affection.

She wished she didn’t have to. He was warm and smelled vaguely of citrus and smoke and thunderstorms, and there was a pleasant fluttering sensation in her stomach when she was close to him like this.

But before she could move away completely he very tentatively looped his arms around her, returning the hug. His arms were loose and he still seemed stiff and uncomfortable, as if hugs did not come naturally to him at all. But he was hugging her back, and they sat like that, on the ground and embracing, for a few minutes. Katara tried to ignore the blazing warmth in her chest, accompanied by a steep upturn in the fluttering in her stomach. She also tried to ignore the traitorous part of her that wanted to curl up into his lap and bring herself closer.

When she pulled away, she smiled shyly at him. “Should we…get back?”

The Blue Spirit nodded, moving to stand. Katara surveyed him for a moment once they were on their feet, but she was pleased to see that he seemed mostly steady. “You have somewhere to go? You’ll be alright?” she pressed.

He nodded again, and pointed at her. “Yes,” said Katara. “I will too.” She paused. “So…three nights from now? We can take it easy. No fighting would probably be better. I just think you could use another healing session. We could also meet earlier if you think that’s better. Your injury actually looks really good, but if you think—”

He cut her off by gripping her shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. And then he held up three fingers.

“Okay,” agreed Katara, heart in her throat again. “See you in three nights, then.”

* * *

Katara thankfully made it back to the upper ring in one piece.

She mostly just felt idiotic and exhausted. And still a little dizzy.

Still, she didn’t let herself rest yet.

She buried her clothes, her mask, and her dao swords deep in the soil of the backyard, under a potted plant, and then took a quiet, late night bath to properly wash her injuries and the blood out of her hair, off her hands, and from underneath her fingernails. She then took a pair of scissors and tried to make her ragged haircut even on both sides. By the time she was done it did look better, and her hair was now only the length of her chin.

By the time she cleaned everything up and fell into bed, light was appearing on the edges of the horizon.

* * *

Katara was awoken a mere three hours later by someone very roughly shaking her awake.

“Come on, Sugar Queen. Wake up. Hurry. Long Feng is knocking at the door.”

Toph sounded anxious, which was a rarity.

Katara went from bleary to alert in seconds. “What?” she cried, sitting up and wrenching the covers off. She wasted no time in padding out into the front room, where Aang and Sokka had converged by the front door, staring at it like if they were to just ignore the knocking aggressively enough that it would stop.

“What could he want?” Sokka was saying, and then he caught sight of his sister. “Katara! What _happened_?”

“Yeah, Katara, your hair!” said Aang, also staring at her with wide, shocked eyes.

“Was it not long when we went to bed last night?” Sokka questioned, with a calculating frown.

“I just wanted a change,” said Katara breezily, waving a dismissive hand and avoiding their eyes.

Another loud rap sounded on the front door. “I know you’re in there, Avatar and friends,” came Long Feng’s voice through the wood. “Open the door. Now. Or I’ll open it myself.”

They all exchanged terrified glances. “Do it,” said Sokka. “We don’t really have a choice.”

Aang opened the door, and Long Feng stepped in without being invited, barely looking at him. Aang shut the door, blinking in surprise. Long Feng’s eyes scanned the room until they landed on Katara.

His eyes narrowed just slightly, but otherwise he showed no emotion.

“What do you want?” Toph demanded.

“Relax,” said Long Feng calmly. “I only wish to speak alone with Miss…” His mouth twisted. “Katara.”

Katara’s heart stopped in her chest and then started again, painfully, pounding uncomfortably hard.

But she lifted her chin and looked Long Feng dead in the eye. “Master.”

His eyes narrowed further. “What?”

“ _Master_ Katara,” she corrected, arching an eyebrow. “That’s my proper title. Not Miss.”

Long Feng momentarily looked as though he was seriously tempted to drag her outside and smash her with a boulder. But then he just inclined his head. “Oh, of course. I meant no disrespect, _Master_ Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.” The oily condescension in his voice, however, clearly suggested the opposite.

“What do you want with Katara?” Aang’s voice was loud and harsher than usual. “You can talk to her with us!”

“No, Aang,” said Katara quickly, reaching over and giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay.”

She nodded tersely at Long Feng. He gestured to the next room—Katara’s room.

“Katara—” Sokka began doubtfully, but Long Feng cut him off.

“No harm will come to your sister,” he promised. “This will only take a few moments.”

“Any longer and we’ll be coming in,” Aang warned, eyes darting between Katara and Long Feng.

Katara just gave Aang and the others one last reassuring smile and a nod as she followed Long Feng into the room, trying not to show that she had a feeling she knew exactly why he was visiting her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those reading! I really appreciate your kindness :)


	5. II. treat me like fire.

As soon as they entered the room and Long Feng shut the door, Katara whirled to face him.

Much like any other deadly predator, she knew it was best not to have her back turned on him too long. She wanted him in her sight at all times. Katara wanted to speak first—hoping it would give her some sort of upper hand in the power game they were clearly playing—but Long Feng beat her to it.

“What a… _charming_ haircut.” The smile that danced across his lips was sly and challenging.

_He knows._

Katara did her best not to let her facial expression morph into something guilty. “Thank you,” she said, stiffly.

Long Feng arched an eyebrow. “Shall we speak plainly with each other, Miss Katara?”

“Master,” Katara corrected again.

He pursed his lips. “Yes…” he said, and his voice had taken on a soft, deadly quality that Katara didn’t like at all. “You _are_ a master water-bender. So perhaps you’ll find this information worth hearing: last night, Dai Li agents were attacked by the Blue Spirit.” Long Feng’s eyes grew colder as Katara squirmed under his gaze. “Curiously, he also had a female companion. And she was an _astoundingly_ competent water-bender, according to my agents.”

“How interesting.”

Long Feng arched an eyebrow. “Indeed.” He began to pace the room and Katara tracked him carefully, all muscles tensed, in case he was preparing to strike. “I don’t think I need to remind you, Master Katara, that you and your friends are in Ba Sing Se at my mercy. I can banish you anytime that I wish.”

“It wasn’t me.” Katara folded her arms.

“I hope not. Banishing you from the city is the merciful option. It is not something I would do for a violent criminal. It would be a real shame if I had to take you into my custody for such charges.”

Katara’s heart dropped and settled somewhere in her stomach. “It wasn’t. And besides, you don’t have any proof.”

Long Feng was now not only pacing around the room—he was shifting items around on the dresser.

Katara’s fists clenched at her sides and she seethed at this intrusion, but she didn’t comment. She was thankful she’d thought to bury her belongings outside. “Did you not just hear me?” asked Long Feng smoothly, opening her wardrobe and peering inside before turning slowly to look at her again, his eyes glinting. “You are all at my mercy. I do not need proof. I only need to have my suspicions.” He paused. “And I do.”

Katara forced herself to swallow over the lump of panic in her throat. “We just want to talk to the Earth King and find Appa. I have nothing to do with the Blue Spirit or this attack on your agents.”

His eyes flashed. Before Long Feng could reply, the door to the bedroom burst open, and Sokka, Aang, and Toph were framed in the doorway, glaring angrily at the Dai Li leader. “That’s enough,” said Sokka.

“Yeah!” said Aang, brandishing his staff. “If there’s more problems, take it up with all of us!”

Long Feng’s eyes flicked to each member of the group before he smiled. It did not reach his eyes.

“Remember what I said, Master Katara,” he told her, and then he was sweeping briskly out the door.

* * *

The following three days were long.

Very, very long.

For one thing, Katara was still worried about Blue.

But worse was that Dai Li agents now followed her and her friends _everywhere_. They were not trying to be subtle. They just hovered as the group went about their business in the city, making it impossible for them to search for Appa in any meaningful way and also making it impossible to relax.

Unfortunately, the group seemed to have gathered that this had to do with Katara.

One by one, they cornered her to talk about it. Even Toph, which Katara hadn’t been expecting, though it did take her a bit longer.

Sokka had been first, shortly after Long Feng had left that morning. He’d shooed the others out of the bedroom and turned to look at her. “You wanna tell me what’s going on with you?” he’d asked, a small, concerned frown on his face.

“Not really.”

Sokka’s frown deepened. “You’ve been acting weird,” he told her. “You’re tired all the time. And then Long Feng showed up. Something is going on. What is it? Is it dangerous?”

Images of dao swords and Dai Li agents and blood flicker across Katara’s mind.

“No,” she said. “I’m fine, Sokka. Really.”

Aang was next.

He’d given her a bit more time than Sokka had, waiting until later that evening to speak with her. Katara could tell it was coming. She’d seen him sneaking worried glances at her all day. So when he had purposefully sped up to walk with her, alone, as they all trailed back from the market to buy their dinner, Katara wasn’t surprised. “What did Long Feng want?”

Katara glanced over to see Aang peering up at her, eyes wide.

“There was an attack on Dai Li agents last night,” said Katara. “A water-bender was involved. He just had a few questions.”

Aang’s eyes became as round as saucers. “Do you think this will affect our search for Appa?”

A horrible, squirming guilt churned Katara’s stomach.

This was all wrong. She couldn’t ruin this for Aang, or for the cause. It was right that moment, talking to her friend she cared about so much, that she realized she wouldn’t be able to use that mask Blue had given her again. She could not prowl the streets with it any more, not with Long Feng onto her.

No more fighting criminals. No more vigilantism.

“No,” said Katara soothingly, touching Aang’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “And I know we’ll find Appa soon, Aang. Don’t worry.”

He gave her a tentative, boyish smile. “You know, I was surprised to see your hair like that this morning, Katara. But not in a bad way. I really like it short.”

“Thanks.” Katara gave him a kind smile, hoping it was hiding her aching sense of loss.

* * *

Toph waited the longest.

In fact, she didn’t confront Katara until the third night after Long Feng’s visit, when Katara was attempting to slip back into the house after meeting Blue.

Thankfully, as she was trying to depart earlier that evening, she could do so early enough that she could pass it off as a regular night visit to the city, because she knew Dai Li agents would be tailing her the entire time.

She thought she knew now why Long Feng was waiting to apprehend her, despite his assertion that he had his suspicions and didn’t care about proof.

He was hoping she would lead the Dai Li to the Blue Spirit, and he could catch them both.

It was crucial, then, that she was extra careful tonight.

After Katara acted normal a while she’d have some time to shake them off with the help of the confusing, winding streets, before she had to meet up with Blue.

Her plan worked well. The group went to bed early, Katara left quietly, and she took note of the Dai Li agents following her; this time, however, seeing her alone, they _were_ trying to be subtle. But Katara had gotten very good at picking up movements in the dark, and she was hyper aware of their every move and position as she went about her night, even if she pretended not to see them hovering in the shadows.

She acted as if she were shopping, long and leisurely, at the market, buying a few things to decrease suspicion.

She drifted past stalls and talked with people, and went to a restaurant as planned. She ate and then wandered, finding the most crowded streets she could, darting here and there and using her more refined stealth skills to throw the agents of her trail.

It was difficult to do, especially since she was still trying to appear casual, but eventually she thought she managed it. She climbed on a rooftop to make sure, and saw them a few streets away, scratching their heads, before turning into an alley.

Katara grinned, climbed back down, and went the opposite direction.

So she was a little later than usual again when she finally got to her meeting spot with the Blue Spirit. He was already there, sitting against the wall; and the relief at seeing him there, unharmed, was more powerful than she’d expected. He got to his feet when he saw her. He appeared to be scanning her, and before she could say anything he stepped forward, took hold of both of her wrists, and turned her hands to check her palms.

“They’re fine,” Katara said softly, trying to ignore those pesky butterflies in her stomach. “It’s your injury that needs looking at. Has it been bothering you?”

He shrugged. Katara took that to mean yes, but that he was too proud to admit it.

“Sit down,” Katara suggested.

He obeyed, and Katara watched his movements carefully. His leg still seemed stiff and didn’t move as easily as it had before, but she didn’t hear him gritting his teeth and he didn’t seem to be in terrible pain. She sank down beside him, ripped off the patch he appeared to have put over that part of his pants, covering his injury, and examined it closely. To her relief, the wound still looked decent. It did not appear infected, nor did it look worse. It didn’t look much better, either.

She suspected he hadn’t been resting as he should have.

“Have you been trying to stay off it?” Katara asked knowingly, pulling the water from her pouch and coating it around her right hand.

He shrugged again, and she just shot him a severe look, shaking her head, before lowering her hand to the injury. As soon as she made contact, she heard a low hiss of content escape his mouth under the mask, and he tilted his head back against the wall, seemingly overwhelmed by the soothing sensation of the healing.

Katara frowned. She shouldn’t have waited three days to see him. She should have been giving him daily healing sessions. It was quiet for a few moments as she focused on her task, but then she asked, “Do you know who Long Feng is, Blue?”

He shook his head, still tilted back against the wall in relief.

“The leader of the Dai Li. He came to visit me the morning after this happened.” Katara gestured to his leg, and then pursed her lips. “He’s horrible. And he knew I was involved. He made comments about a water-bender, and my haircut, and threatened to arrest me.”

Blue’s head snapped up to stare at her.

“It’s fine,” said Katara. “For now. But Dai Li agents have been tailing me everywhere. I had to go around the city for a few hours tonight and act natural before shaking them off to meet you. I don’t think…” She bit her lip, that sadness stabbing her chest all over again. “I don’t think we can go after criminals anymore like we were. I can’t risk Aang not finding Appa. And we have to wait for a meeting with the Earth King. It’s really important. I can’t really tell you why, but if I mess this up for everyone because I’ve been running around at night…” She sighed, glancing up at the familiar curves of the mask. “I’d never forgive myself.”

He, of course, didn’t reply. He just sat there a moment before giving her a brief nod.

“I’d still like to meet with you,” Katara offered. “I don’t think every other night is exactly wise with the Dai Li watching me, because I think they’re hoping I’ll lead them to you. We’d have to be really careful, and I couldn’t stay long, but I’d still like to learn a little fighting.” She suddenly felt very uncertain. “If you’re—if you want to, that is. After your leg is more healed.”

He nodded again, and Katara’s shoulders relaxed. She smiled at him. “Okay.”

She continued healing him in silence for another fifteen minutes or so. When she was done, she was already exhausted. She’d put a lot of her energy into it. “Does that feel better?” He nodded, and reached to squeeze her wrist, which she knew now meant thank you.

“No problem,” she told him. “Least I could do.” She peered at the injury in the less than optimal light of the alley. She could already tell it looked better than when she’d arrived. The new, red skin was a duller red color now, not so fresh, and when they stood, he seemed to be putting his weight on it less gingerly, too. “Four nights from now?” Katara asked. “I wish I could heal this for you every day, but with Long Feng suspicious…”

He just gave her a thumbs up.

“And I don’t think I can bring my swords once we can actually spar again,” she admitted. “Since they're going to tail me into the city. I don’t know if you could just bring wooden ones again? Not next time, obviously, with your leg, but when we’re ready?”

Another thumbs up. Katara gave him a wide, yet tired smile. “Okay. See you soon.” He squeezed her wrist one more time, and turned to leave. “And I’ll know if you aren’t relaxing properly!” Katara called after his retreating figure, and she thought she heard a low laugh.

Katara wandered as inconspicuously as possible about the city for another hour, going to a park, making it look as though she was going for a long walk, hoping that Dai Li agents would detect her again. They did, though it was only on her way back up to the upper ring. They did not say or do anything about her disappearance; perhaps they did not want to report to Long Feng they had lost her for an hour or so, which suited Katara just fine.

When she slipped into the house, it was dark and quiet.

But when she stepped into her room a flame suddenly ignited, making Katara yelp and look around wildly to locate the source of the light, instinctively starting to unscrew her pouch.

“Shh. It’s just me,” said Toph from a chair in the corner, discarding the match she’d been holding with one hand, a lantern clutched in the other.

Katara stared at her. “Did you really just wait here to dramatically light a lamp you can’t see?”

Toph grinned. “Yep. How was it?”

“Very good,” said Katara, mouth twitching in spite of herself. “But, uh, why?”

“You know why,” said Toph. “Where are you always going? Is it that boyfriend?”

“I told you, I don’t have a boyfriend,” Katara said, flushing.

Toph smirked. “I can hear your heartbeat. It’s insane right now. You know what I think that means, Sugar Queen? I think you’re meeting a boy, and that you like him.”

“It’s—well, yes, it’s a boy,” said Katara, her face getting more uncomfortably warm by the second. “But it’s not like that, Toph. Really.”

“Do I really need to remind you that I know when people are lying?”

“It’s not!” insisted Katara. “He’s just teaching me how to fight without my bending.”

This captured Toph’s interest. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” said Katara, smiling. “Some hand-to-hand stuff. And some sword-fighting.”

Toph shifted; the shadows in the room flickered as the lantern moved with her. “Is that all you were doing, Sugar Queen? Or have you been...oh, I don’t know...taking the law into your own hands?” Her voice was far too knowing. But Katara supposed it was easy enough to put two and two together after Long Feng showed up here, wanting to speak with her. There was also no point in trying to lie to her.

“Not anymore,” Katara promised, biting her lip. “Please don’t tell Aang and Sokka. Now we’re just going to meet to practice. Nothing real. I just still want to learn something in case Ty Lee shows up and manages to take away my bending again.”

Toph snorted. “As if I would tell those two. Don’t worry about that.” She stood from the chair, shuffling toward the door, but not before coming to Katara and thrusting the lantern into the older girl’s hands. “And you know I’m also not gonna tell you not to go out and do stuff like this. I think it’s pretty great, actually. Just be really careful with the Dai Li.”

Katara swallowed. “Yeah,” she said, as Toph made her way to the door. “I know.”

* * *

Ten more days passed.

Katara saw the Blue Spirit only twice in this time.

She knew it was better like this—to keep the meeting days erratic, not to have a regular schedule, and to meet less often because of the ever-present Dai Li. But the longer waits between their meetings made Katara realize just how much she liked them. The others had only consisted of brief healing sessions as the Blue Spirit’s leg healed, but she was feeling restless again. Thankfully tonight they were meeting once more, and Blue was ready to get back to sparring, even if only for a short time.

As always, he greeted her in silence before waving for her to follow him.

She did, curious where he was leading her. It was the direction of the warehouse district but he stopped on the outskirts, leading her down more streets until they were in a mostly abandoned section of the city, and they clambered through the window of a run-down building. She followed him into something that resembled a storehouse, though it was empty. Plenty of space to spar. Just thinking about it made Katara nearly giddy with excitement, though it was laced with a sense of hesitancy.

She knew that the Blue Spirit wasn’t yet at one hundred percent of his normal fighting skills after needing a break to recover. Katara _did_ want to beat him. Just once. But she wanted to do it when he was back to his full strength, so that she could be certain that she had been able to do it on her merit alone.

For now, he needed to start off slowly with getting back to action.

They performed their usual back and forth, their almost perfectly choreographed warm-up steps, sparring lightly but with enough exertion that by the end they were both doubled over, breathing hard.

Katara had become fine tuned to his breathing. It was astounding how much she picked up on simply because she couldn’t rely on his face. She heard changes in his breathing after particularly intense training sessions. She saw each stiffen of his shoulders or twitch of his fingers. It was strange, so very strange, to feel so connected with him like this and still have no idea what he looked like.

When he came to stand in front of her again after warm-up, he held his own double wooden swords in front of his face, waiting for her to do the same, their signal to each other that they were ready to start.

Katara held hers up as well, staring hard at the mask, trying to quickly calculate how she would attempt to strike him first without doing something that could potentially harm him more.

After a few seconds, they both brought their swords slashing down, and the real dance began.

It was exhilarating that Katara finally felt that she could keep up with him a little, after weeks of watching his technique and marveling at his style and his fluidity. Their swords swung almost effortlessly through the air, brown blurs that clunked and clashed at regular intervals. Katara could feel that she was improving; that she was learning to match his movements almost perfectly. She blocked everything that came for her and was able to initiate plenty of offensive strikes of her own, though he shut those down easily. Today, since they were more evenly matched due to his recent injury and her improvement, they were perfectly in sync.

Step for step. Jab for block. Spin. Lunge. Repeat. Katara grinned as they flew and circled around each other, because this was the first fight with the swords where she felt fully competent; even if they were only wooden.

And then, surprising both of them, Katara bested him.

She swung in from his left, and her quick movement caused him to stumble. He stumbled harder than usual on his leg, and Katara immediately had one sword at his chest. There was a pause as they both caught their breath.

And then she felt guilty. “Sorry,” she said, lowering the sword. “I shouldn’t have...your leg...are you okay?”

Blue straightened up. He watched her for a long moment before giving his usual nod.

And then he stood in front of her again, clearly ready for another round.

Katara bit her lip, hesitating. She had seen a slight limp as he’d gotten into position.

Finally, she said, “I think you should rest, Blue.”

There was a pause in which they simply watched each other. And then he just set his wooden swords down, stepped forward, and began correcting her posture, acting as if he had not heard her request to stop. He squared her shoulders and widened her stance with his own feet as he always did. And then he took her swords and put them aside, clearly intending to have a match of hand-to-hand combat.

Katara put her arms up, ready to fight, and he assessed her for another moment before tucking her elbows in to her sides.

Katara’s heart was pounding, but she didn’t think it was just the after effects of the training. It was something about his movements. They were very slow and purposeful, and he was standing much closer to her than he usually was prone to do. The last time she’d been this close to him was when she’d hugged him.

His fingers lingered over her upper arms. He seemed to be wavering. Katara waited, almost unable to breathe. A tension had entered the air. She felt it. She thought maybe he did too. _You’re ridiculous_ , she told herself fiercely, trying to concentrate properly on her stance.

The Blue Spirit placed his hands on her shoulders again, squaring them, even though he’d already done it.

And then—Katara really did stop breathing for a moment—one of his hands slid up and he brushed a strand of hair out of her face. It had come loose during sparring. Katara did not miss the way his fingers lingered on her cheek before moving it, nor did she miss the way they grazed her hairline as he tucked it behind her ear.

And then he quickly stepped back.

It was so abrupt that Katara blinked, surprised. The gesture had been undeniably gentle, but then he’d moved so suddenly. He wasn’t looking her direction anymore either. Katara’s heart was going so fast and she was so flustered that it rendered her unable to speak for a moment.

Though even if she had been able to, she wasn’t quite sure what she would say.

Finally, the Blue Spirit turned and raised his hands, assuming fighting stance. Katara slowly copied him.

Just like the first round with the swords, they matched each other almost perfectly. Neither could up the other.

It went on and on, circling and jabbing and jumping, until—

She crouched and spun, aiming a spinning kick right for his ankles. He buckled, and she aimed another one directly at his chest, taking advantage of his momentary lack of equilibrium.

But he caught her foot, and in her attempt to get out of the grip she spun in mid-air, landing on her stomach with a slight wheeze. It had been a hard fall, but Katara rolled over onto her back and was halfway to springing back to her feet when she felt a heavy force push into her stomach. She went flying backward, this time landing on her back on the hard ground with a strangled gasp. His hands came to her wrists, pinning them on either side of her head. His mask was inches from her face, and he was so close to her that she could feel his chest rising and falling against her own. As always he felt steady and unshakable against her.

She was trapped under him. He’d bested her.

“You got me,” panted Katara, but for a long, curious moment, Blue did not move.

He only stayed there, on top of her, staring down at her. And Katara found she wasn’t in a hurry for him to move either. She felt heat rise into her cheeks and her stomach twist itself into those nervous-yet-pleasant knots.

Time slowed and warped and ground to a halt.

Katara realized then just how badly she wanted him to take off that mask. The curiosity was becoming almost unbearable now. She just stared up at him, wishing she could slip it off and finally look at the eyes that had been observing her under that mask for so long.

Once again he moved away so quickly that it was jarring. The heat in Katara’s face did not dissipate as she slowly got to her feet. She wondered, in a brief moment of paranoia, if he could somehow read minds. Or if she had unconsciously leaned toward him a little, drawing even closer than they already had been, hoping…

Blue was turned away from her tucking the swords onto his back. He normally didn’t do this until the end. She just watched him uncertainly until he turned around again. He tapped on his wrist and tilted his head.

Katara’s heart sank. “Yeah,” she said. “You’re right. We’re not supposed to spar long. We should get going.”

He held up a three, and she smiled. At least it wouldn’t be nearly a week until the next session.

“I’d like that,” she agreed, and then followed him out of the empty storehouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't update this for a week or two because I need to focus on some other projects (including a Zutara prompt challenge one shot thing I signed up for). So I decided to drop next week's chapter now, so you don't have to wait so long on last chapter's cliffie. This is almost fully written, so we should be back to regularly scheduled programming after that. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	6. heartbeats.

Katara was collecting secrets.

Perhaps that was the way of things in Ba Sing Se. Maybe the city of walls and secrets was rubbing off on her.

She’d never had so many secrets from her friends, and especially not from Sokka. Secrets weren’t exactly easy to hold in her village growing up, with so few people. And Katara hadn’t had time for her own secrets anyway.

It was ironic that she had the relative freedom in Ba Sing Se to develop them.

There was, of course, the secret of the Blue Spirit. Though that was now only partially a secret, thanks to Toph. She still, at least, did not know _who_ Katara was meeting in the night. Sometimes Katara was tempted to tell her. If there was anyone in the group she trusted not to spill the information, it was Toph.

But she’d promised Blue, and she intended on remaining loyal to that promise.

There was the secret of her new weapons training. Katara was looking forward to a little mischief with this one; she fully planned on whipping out her new talents one day in front of Aang and Sokka once they were away from the city. She couldn’t wait to watch the complete and utter shock on their faces.

She could even teach Sokka how to sword fight.

Katara grinned. He would hate that.

There was one more secret, too, and this one she thought— _hoped_ —she would carry to her grave.

She had begun experimenting with her newfound ability to manipulate blood since she’d used it to heal Blue.

Often the only times that she could do so was in the night, in her room, after all of her friends had gone to sleep. First, she’d wondered if she could control the blood even if it wasn’t coming out of the body and there was no wound with which to access it. Could she still manipulate it, even if it was still closed up in the veins?

So she’d concentrated on her own arm and tried to feel that rush of warmth once more.

It hadn’t worked the first time.

Still, she kept testing, experimenting, and she eventually got it. She watched with a horrified sort of fascination as she made her own arm move around in eerie, twitching motions with the power of her bending.

It wasn’t something Katara ever intended to use. The healing was useful, but this—she knew how wrong this was. Still, curiosity drove her to practice, even if she would never practice on someone else. She invented ways to test herself. She tried to move her own arms and legs and changed how much resistance she offered.

The way her body bent and twisted under her own command frightened her and exhilarated her.

She practiced and she practiced, but Katara hoped she would never have to use the blood-bending for combat.

She hoped that she would never be that desperate.

* * *

On the next night she was to meet Blue, Katara repeated her careful wandering around the city, successfully shaking the Dai Li off her trail once more before hurrying to their spot. Blue was there, straightening when he saw her, as usual. They wasted no time hurrying off to the same storehouse they’d been to the last time they’d met, using the rooftops to navigate tonight.

The quicker the better. Time was, just like the last meeting, limited.

And Katara knew that the Dai Li agents would not let this happen so ofte.

At some point, if they kept losing track of her, even if it was only for an hour, they would report it to Long Feng.

She tried not to think about what that would mean for her time with Blue.

When they arrived Katara gave him one of the usual healing sessions, and she was pleased to see that the injury on his leg was hardly visible now.

And indeed, this time when they sparred with the wooden swords she could tell that he was back to his normal self. And Katara was having a much harder time getting a clear shot at him as a result. This just made her try harder, and fight more furiously, and he matched her energy in response. They stepped and twirled and slashed so long that they eventually had to call it a draw in order to take a break and catch their breath. They went one more round, still a draw, before tossing the swords aside and getting into their stances to have a match of hand-to-hand combat.

But before they could begin, there came very light sounds from outside. This district was usually quiet. Katara acted immediately, sprinting to the window. She saw nothing, but the sounds persisted. Footsteps. She didn’t have a mask. If it was the Dai Li…

Her worst fear was confirmed when she saw a flash of green, and the conical shape of their hats. Three of them.

Katara whirled and crouched low, her eyes finding Blue. “We need to get out of here!” she told him, her voice a hoarse whisper. He nodded, gestured her toward him, and began setting off through the rooms of the warehouse. They reached a back exit and slipped into the street; they could still hear the faint footsteps, most likely only a street or two away. A hand slipped into hers, and then they were running.

The Dai Li agents must have heard them speed up, because Katara heard a faint shout, and the undeniable sound of their footsteps growing louder and quicker.

Katara’s heart pounded in her ears. They weaved through streets and alleys in an attempt to escape their pursuers, but the sound of the Dai Li agents behind them would only fade and return, never fade completely, and panic began to creep into Katara’s brain as they ran, because what would happen if they were actually caught?

Before she had a chance to fully register what was happening, Katara felt a hand on her upper arm. The Blue Spirit skidded to a stop, pulling her with him, and yanked her into a crevice nestled between two buildings.

It was small enough to be massively uncomfortable, but it also meant that when the Dai Li agents eventually came around the corner, Katara and Blue watched as they dashed right by. Katara let out a sigh of relief.

And then she realized just how tightly she was smashed against the Blue Spirit in this tiny space. His hands were on the wall behind her, and she could tell that his arms were straining, that he was trying to push back and give her some space, but there was no more space to be had here. They were so close that Katara’s nose brushed against his mask. Unconsciously, Katara had placed her hands on his chest. She tried very hard not to notice how hard it was under her fingers and failed entirely.

For a few long moments they stared at each other, struggling to catch their breath.

She wondered what he saw on her face, because whatever it was made him clear his throat.

“This is close,” said Katara, still a little breathlessly. And then she flushed. “I mean—that was close. With them.”

 _Smooth_ , she thought, fighting the urge to wince.

He just gave a brief nod. He still appeared to be looking down at her face.

Katara knew she was flushing even more, but she did not look away. Her voice became soft and her fingers tightened a little around the fabric on his chest. “Are you—are you _sure_ I can’t see your face? I’d really like to,” she whispered, slowly moving a curious hand up to touch the wooden shell of his mask.

The Blue Spirit jerked and tersely shook his head.

Katara snatched her hand back and looked down to her feet, willing the sadness away, cheeks still hot.

She had hoped. She had told herself she wouldn’t hope, but she had anyway. She was so naive sometimes.

Katara began shifting around in an attempt to extricate herself from his limbs, which seemed to be everywhere, and tried to slide toward the opening of the crevice they were hiding in. She stumbled very ungracefully out of the nook and heard him do the same behind her, and then they were setting off carefully in the darkness.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she was surprised when they were already back in their alley.

Katara turned to face him and opened her mouth to say goodbye, and to suggest a time for meeting.

To her horror, that wasn’t what came out.

“I really like you,” she said.

When he did not move or react in any way, she made it worse by starting to nervously babble. “I know it’s stupid. I’ve never even seen you or really talked with you, but the point is I already really, really like you _without_ seeing you, and I would never dream of ratting you out, so I’m not sure why you’re so afraid to show—"

But her words died in her throat when the Blue Spirit reached out to catch her wrist. The pressure was light, but something about the deliberateness of the movement made Katara’s heart kick-start.

Katara swallowed a lump that had risen in her throat when he didn’t let go. “Will you kiss me?” she blurted out.

He froze.

He then dropped her wrist, took a few steps back, and started to pace back and forth before her.

Katara wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She wanted to summon Toph and tell her to just bury her in the ground, please and thank you. Now, preferably. “I—sorry. I thought maybe you also—” She stopped.

He was still pacing.

She wished the ground would decide to finally do her the favor of letting her disappear now. But when it continued to very rudely leave her to the awkward situation she’d created, she swallowed hard again and forced herself to speak. “Never mind,” she mumbled finally, bringing her palms to her hot cheeks and staring down at her feet. “Please let’s just…let’s just forget this conversation happened.”

His footsteps stopped.

When she chanced a glance up at him again, he was facing her. He then turned sharply on his heel and began prowling down the alley, peering at the ground. Katara was just about to ask what he was looking for when he came back again, a stick in his hand; he turned around and began scratching a message in the dirt.

When he stepped back, she leaned forward and read the words he had carefully and messily etched into the dirt.

_It’s complicated._

She stared at them for a few seconds before she scoffed, mostly to hide her hurt. “I may not know _that_ much about this stuff, but I do know that excuse when I see it. Blue, it’s really fine. I get it, okay?”

The Blue Spirit made a frustrated noise in his throat, throwing his arms up in exasperation, before he shook his head furiously. He then swiped the message away with his foot and began scrawling a new one. It was much longer.

_I promise you would change your mind without this mask._

Katara just stared at it for a moment, mouth hanging open. And then she narrowed her eyes at him. “How would you know what I want? Are you worried I won’t like your face? Do you really think I’m that _shallow_?”

He made another noise of exasperation before shaking his head rather helplessly.

“Well, I don’t really care what’s under there,” Katara snapped, jabbing an irritated finger at his mask. “I told you that, so stop trying to decide what I want.”

Katara had more passionate ranting planned, but it died in her throat when the Blue Spirit took a step forward.

Slowly, as though giving her time to slap him away, he rose his hand toward her face. All she could do was watch, her eyes wide and her entire body feeling suddenly very light and airy. His hand traveled up until it reached her eyes; very, very carefully, he turned his hand sideways and covered them.

Katara knew what he was telling her.

It took her a moment to speak over the lump in her throat.

“I should close my eyes?” Katara whispered into the darkness, and he pulled his hand away so that she could see him nod in affirmation. He then covered her eyes again and tapped her very lightly and pointedly on the forehead. “I’ll keep them closed,” she confirmed, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “I promise.”

And so this time, when his hand drew away, she did not open her eyes. She could only sense his presence, sense his chest rising and falling, and she suspected that he was watching her, calculating—making sure that she would keep her word and keep her eyes closed. Katara heard movement, and felt his arms shift, and the temptation to open her eyes now was almost unbearable, because she thought she knew what he had done, what was now out in the open…

She felt his hand brush her jaw, and a shiver of delight ran up her spine. Every muscle was tense. One of his hands moved up to her cheek, the thumb brushing her cheekbone, and then it was underneath her chin and tilting it up.

Almost dizzy now, Katara only had time to vaguely register once again the scent he had, much stronger here, near his neck—like citrus and thunderstorms—before he kissed her. It was very soft. Just the lightest ghost of a brush of his lips on hers. She could only tell how nice and warm he felt before he had already pulled away. It had been brief, too brief, but it had been enough for Katara’s fingers to clutch tighter at his shirt and for her knees to nearly give out.

He did not pull away completely. She could feel him hovering there, near her mouth. He was so close that their noses were still touching.

His kiss had been a tentative question. Katara answered it by using her hold on his shirt to pull him fiercely back toward her; this time, she was the one who blindly found his lips. His response was matched in intensity, bringing both hands to cup her face so he could tilt her head and kiss her in a way that made her toes curl and every inch of her feel warm. He kissed her over and over, deeper, and when she felt his tongue graze hers she gasped quietly into his mouth. She drew even closer, curling her arms automatically around his neck.

She’d never been kissed like this.

Granted, she hadn’t been kissed much. Jet and Aang had been the only other ones.

Aang had been a peck in that cave—a barely there memory.

Jet had certainly had an intensity, and it had been nice at the time, but she’d also had no idea it could be like this. Now that she had the comparison, Jet’s passion had felt different. The Blue Spirit was kissing her with just as much fervor, perhaps more, but he also moved his fingers across her face with a gentleness that Jet had not shown her. When he pulled away, her mind felt blissfully blank.

She felt him shift again with his arms, and then heard the movement of his mask, and after, his hand came to tap her on the outside of her eyes.

Slowly, Katara opened them.

The mask was back in place. He was just looking quietly at her again.

Katara had no idea what to say. She wasn’t sure she was capable of speech. So she just stared back.

Finally, he held up his hand, made the thumbs up gesture, then a thumbs down, and tilted his head.

Giggles bubbled into her throat and came spilling over her lips before she could control them. She covered her mouth to stifle the sound, peering up at him with her eyes dancing in amusement. “You’re asking me to rate your performance?”

She heard a little scoff from under the mask, half exasperation, half amusement.

He shook his head, then tilted it further and pointed at her, repeating the motion with his thumbs.

“Oh. Well yes,” Katara answered, shyly, feeling heat crawl up her neck again. “I did really like it.”

She didn’t miss how his shoulders relaxed a little.

His uncertainty somehow made it all even more charming. Katara felt her heart squeeze in her chest.

 _This won’t end well_ , a nagging voice chanted in her head.

“I’ll really miss you when I leave Ba Sing Se,” she told him anyway. “Once we do what we need to do here…once Aang gets Appa. I don’t think it will be much longer.”

He just nodded slowly.

Katara wanted to ask him so many things. She wanted to ask him if he would miss her, too. Or if he would eventually trust her enough to take off his mask if things were different and she was here longer. If maybe he’d kiss her again.

But she didn’t ask. She didn’t ask, because she couldn’t let the answers matter to her.

She was leaving, and in the end this was just another boy she’d met on the road that was hiding a part of himself from her. And although he was helping her, too, he seemed to have no intention of taking that mask off. Katara fully planned on just appreciating this for what it was: a good few months of learning how to fight. Another friend. And a really, really good kiss. She refused to get sucked in to higher hopes. Not again.

So she didn’t ask or say the things she really wanted to.

What she did ask was: “So when should we meet again?”

The Blue Spirit tilted his head and held up four fingers.

“Works for me,” agreed Katara.

She jolted a little in surprise when he leaned forward and lightly squeezed her wrist. And then he turned on his heel and slipped away into the darkness.

* * *

But four days later, everything has changed.

Katara has seen underneath Lake Laogai.

She has essentially seen Jet die, has seen Aang and Appa reunited, Long Feng arrested, and the Earth King agree to the invasion plan on the Day of Black Sun. And she has just had her last night with her friends.

Tomorrow morning they will leave, and Katara will be the only one left in Ba Sing Se after the decision to separate.

Aang had a guru to visit to help him master the Avatar state; Sokka was heading off to find their father and Toph was visiting her parents; Katara had agreed to stay behind and help the Earth King with invasion plans.

So much had happened that day and she was so exhausted from the trauma of it all that she nearly forgot all about her meeting with the Blue Spirit. When she remembered she sat bolt upright in her bed with a gasp, and immediately scrambled to the patch of dirt outside where she’d earlier buried her belongings. With Long Feng locked up and the Earth King back, the Dai Li would no longer be tailing her. Her friends were leaving the city. Appa was found.

She could have one last night of actual vigilantism.

So, heart fluttering, she dug up her mask, swords, and outfit, double and triple checked for her water pouch—never would she make _that_ mistake again—and hurried out of their house in the upper ring. Katara slipped through the shadows like a wraith, steering clear of the streets she now knew were the most crowded, sticking only to the path where no people would see her. When she got to the alley at their usual meeting time, it was empty.

Katara was late. But the Blue Spirit had always been here waiting, even if she was late. And she wasn’t as late tonight as she had been some other times.

Maybe something was holding him up tonight. With a tired sigh, Katara settled on the ground to wait, heart fluttering anxiously. Katara waited and waited, longer than she would ever care to admit to another living being.

But the Blue Spirit didn’t show.

After Katara nodded off for a few moments there against the wall and jerked awake again, she knew that she couldn’t sit here any longer. Dawn would come soon.

He wasn’t coming.

Katara couldn’t ignore the wave of disappointment that curdled her stomach and suddenly made her eyes burn as she stood up and began the long trek back to the upper ring mansion. She may never see Blue again.

He hadn’t waited for her, or perhaps he hadn’t shown up at all, and now she had no way of communicating with him.

A very insecure part of Katara wondered if it had to do with the change in their relationship the last time they’d met, from friends to—whatever they were.

Friends. Yes. Sort of. Friends that kissed once.

 _Didn’t you want more_ _?_ her brain taunted.

“No,” Katara growled out loud, startling an elephant rat that was scrounging nearby on the street for scraps. It squeaked and ran away, and Katara sighed again and pushed forward, willing herself not to cry.

No more Blue. No more friends.

She was going to be all alone.

* * *

Katara was tired. She was so, so tired.

After an entire morning of sitting in on the invasion plans with the Earth King, trying not to fall asleep, all she could think about was an afternoon nap. Not that she could have one. She was only having a quick break before she was supposed to get back to the Earth King.

She hadn’t felt as though the generals and other officials had particularly liked having her there—all wrinkling their nose at the teenager that they saw unfit to sit in the war strategy room, making plans—and that just made this whole thing all the more frustrating.

Another wave of exhaustion crashed over her. She needed a pick-me-up. At least she wasn’t entirely alone. Katara smiled up at the lemur perched on her shoulder. “What do you say, Momo? A cup of tea before we get back to the King?”

Her mind flickered between her friends and her feet dragged as she walked to the door and asked for a table. She wished one of them could be here to share it with her. Or Blue. Thinking about Blue was painful. She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye, and he’d just disappeared as if she was nothing to him at all.

A voice—a horribly familiar voice—jolted her out of her reverie.

“Uncle! I need two jasmine, one green, and one lychee!”

Katara went stock-still. A powerful rush of adrenaline nearly made her miss the answer, another familiar voice.

“I’m brewing as fast as I can!”

No.

 _No_.

Even if she hadn’t caught sight of him—and she had, in green Earth Kingdom service robes, carrying a tray, dark hair shorter now, his scarred side facing her—she would know that voice.

It was undeniably Prince Zuko and his uncle Iroh.

Without pausing to think twice, Katara turned on her heel and sprinted away. Momo clung desperately to her shoulder, chirping in protest as she skidded through the streets. The palace was so far away that by the time Katara arrived there was a stitch in her side, but that didn’t matter. She had to warn someone. The King was absent from his throne, but three Kyoshi Warriors were kneeling on the floor before it.

A nearly blinding relief swept through Katara. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t. Suki was here.

“Thank goodness you’re here, Suki!” Katara gasped, gesturing blindly in the direction from which she’d come. “Something terrible is going on—the Fire Nation has infiltrated the city! I just saw Prince Zuko and his uncle! We have to tell the Earth King, right away!”

Suki rose, a smile on her lips. But when she spoke it was a chilling, dangerously playful voice that Katara had heard more than enough times before. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be sure to let him know.”

 _Azula_.

Before Katara could blink, Momo had taken flight from her shoulder, and one of the other Kyoshi warriors was soaring through the air toward her. The way she moved…Katara knew who this was too. Desperately, Katara started to bend water out of her pouch to stop her attack, but she was too late. With a few quick jabs, she hit Katara’s pressure points. Katara cried out, arms burning, and collapsed. Her body felt somehow weightless and too heavy. She couldn’t move at all. One of her worst fears had been realized—she had met with Ty Lee again, and her new combat skills hadn’t helped her. The element of surprise had been too strong.

She had spent all this time training, and she’d still lost.

She felt the water from her open pouch spilling onto the floor beneath her, soaking her clothes, and she couldn’t even roll an inch to get away from it.

“Throw her in the catacombs,” said Azula carelessly.

It was the other Kyoshi warrior—Katara knew this must be the girl with the knives—that lifted Katara and hauled her over her shoulder with a long-suffering sigh of exasperation. Katara tried to keep track of the route, but she couldn’t. Her body was aching. She felt dizzy and strange. Ty Lee had blocked her chi, and she felt sick.

She was thrown into a pit, glowing with green crystals.

Katara wasn’t sure how long she lay there, in pain from the chi blockage and the fall down the tunnel into her prison, shivering in her damp clothes.

Eventually, her chi normalized itself and she could stand and move, and Katara spent a substantial amount of time after that trying to locate a way out, despite knowing it was probably no use. Azula was ruthless, and she was clever. If she wanted to lock up Katara, then Katara probably wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere.

Time passed.

Katara thought it must have been hours. She tried counting the seconds, and the minutes, but they started to blend together, and she also started to nod off due to her sleep deprivation.

When something creaked open and light flooded in to the cave, however, she sprang up, looking around wildly.

The tunnel they had thrown her in had a heavy door over it, but it had just been opened, and three shadows stood at the top of the precipice. Katara squinted up, pulse fluttering in her throat. Was it Suki? Or had someone else, another of her friends, returned to Ba Sing Se and also been captured?

“You’ve got company,” someone called down, a sneer in their voice; judging from their silhouette, a Dai Li agent.

One of the figures was hurled down the stony passage, crying out as they rolled down the rock and landed with a resounding thud on the floor, huddled right before Katara.

In the beam of light from above, Katara noted the dark hair and the red scar over the left side of the face.

“Zuko!?”


	7. don't let me down, I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any dialogue you recognize is, obviously, not mine.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter :) Thank you for being here!

Zuko slowly pulled himself up to his knees, appearing vaguely disoriented, raising his head to see Katara above him and glaring suspiciously down at him. Katara watched his face flicker between a few emotions that she couldn’t quite place as the beam of light from above began to narrow as the door closed.

Finally the light blinked out, leaving them in dim light once more.

He pulled himself to a sitting position and turned away from her, clearly not wanting to talk.

Katara didn’t particularly care what he wanted.

“Why did they throw you in here?” she demanded, hands on her hips, burning a hole into his back with her gaze. “Oh wait,” she said, bitingly sarcastic now, “Lemme guess. It’s a trap. So that when Aang shows up to help me you can finally have him in your little Fire Nation clutches!”

Zuko still didn’t respond.

He only turned slightly to look at her over his shoulder, out of the corner of his scarred eye, and turned back around. This only infuriated her more.

Why was he being so passive? Where was all of Zuko’s hot-headed anger?

Katara wanted him to fight back with her, damn it.

“Well, it won’t work!” she continued shrilly. “I’ll fight you now if I have to! I don’t need just my water-bending anymore, you know! Someone taught me how to fight without it!”

Though he still didn’t turn around or speak, this statement elicited a small noise from him. It sounded almost like an amused scoff that came deep from his throat. Something familiar nagged at Katara’s mind, but she was too fueled by rage to really notice it. “What, you don’t believe me?” she pressed. “You don’t think I could fight you without bending? Is it because I’m a girl?”

Prince Zuko’s shoulders stiffened. He still didn’t turn around, but his voice was rougher than it had been before. “Why would I think that being a girl matters? I’ve seen you fight. And look at my sister!”

Katara’s voice died in her throat. She found she didn’t have an argument for this but that she wanted to keep yelling at him, so she scrambled for her next angle. “You’re a horrible person, you know that! Always following us, hunting the Avatar, trying to capture the world’s last hope for peace.” She was pacing furiously now. All of her frustration and anger and bitterness over the past few months, trapped here in Ba Sing Se, was spilling out. “But what do you care?” Her voice had become vicious; she was trying to hurt him. She wanted to hurt him. “You’re the Fire Lord’s son. Spreading war and violence and hatred is in your blood.”

He half turned his head again. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Katara pounced on this opportunity to continue fighting, yelling, screaming. Anything so it wasn’t trapped inside her any longer. “I don’t? How _dare_ you!” She pointed accusingly at him, even if he wasn’t looking at her to see it. “You have no _idea_ what this war has put me through! Me, personally!”

And almost as quickly as her anger had flared, it was suddenly gone.

There was a hollow, aching sadness in its place, and she turned her back and crumpled to the floor, reaching automatically for the necklace on her throat as tears sprung to her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, hot and entirely unwelcome.

“The Fire Nation took my mother away from me,” she said, unable to keep the tremors out of her voice.

It was quiet for a moment, except her rising sobs that she tried to stifle into her knees. And then—

“I’m sorry.” There was a shifting sound. “That’s something we have in common.”

She froze, raising her head. The tears stopped spilling down her cheeks as she processed this information.

Somehow Katara had never given much thought to Zuko’s mother. She’d known his father was the Fire Lord, and that the Fire Lord was evil, and that Zuko was evil, and that was that. Katara supposed that if she _had_ given a thought to his mother, she probably would have assumed that she, too, was evil.

But she was gone—because of the Fire Nation?

Zuko had apologized to her; and his voice had been uncharacteristically gentle.

It was like the world had turned on its axis. It didn’t make sense. And yet she’d heard it.

Katara slowly stood, turning around to face him, watching him warily. He was sitting on the ground, facing her, but when he caught her eye he quickly stood and half turned away again. Zuko seemed, for whatever reason, afraid of looking her in the face too long.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Katara said finally, clasping her hands behind her back.

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice was still softer than usual, but careful.

Katara hesitated before saying, “It’s just that for so long now, whenever I would imagine the face of the enemy…it was your face.”

“My face...” He began to turn away even further, but she saw his hand come up and linger over his scar. “I see.”

Horror overtook Katara as she realized her error, as she heard the dejected tone of his voice. “No! No, that’s not what I meant.” She took a few tentative steps closer, but he did not turn around. His back was to her now.

But he did start to speak. “It’s okay. I used to think this scar marked me: the mark of the banished prince, cursed to chase the Avatar forever. But lately…I’ve realized I’m free to determine my own destiny.” He paused. “Even if I’ll never be free of my mark.”

“Maybe you could be free of it.”

Katara wasn’t sure what had made her say it; what had made her willing to offer what she was about to offer.

 _Naive_ , the unpleasant voice in her brain told her; but she swallowed, pushing it away. The way Zuko had responded about her mention of his face had cut her in a way that she couldn’t quite explain. She’d never given much thought to Zuko’s scar, either—how he’d gotten it, or how he felt about it. She’d assumed a training accident. But the way he was talking about it made it sound like something else.

“What?” He actually turned around to look straight at her, his good eye wide.

“I have healing abilities."

He half turned away from her again, shoulders slumping. “It’s a scar. It can’t be healed.”

Katara tugged the very special vile out of a pocket on the inside of her dress. He had turned toward her again, watching, so she held it up by its chain to show it to him. “This is spirit water from the oasis at the north pole.” Tentatively, she took a few steps closer. “It has special properties, so I’ve been saving it for something important.” She moved until she was standing right in front of him, looking up into his face. “I don’t know if would work, but…”

And then—Katara’s jaw nearly dropped—he closed his eyes. He submitted to her completely.

He was _trusting_ her.

A rush of affection that was likely her naivety again swelled up in her.

Her brain was sending her warning signals, but she couldn’t quell it, however badly she wanted to; even while knowing it was inadvisable. This was Prince Zuko. Prince Zuko who had chased them, antagonized them, attacked Kyoshi Island, fought them and hunted them at every turn. But it was also Prince Zuko who had just expressed sympathy for her mother, and seemed hurt and confused, and had also lost his mother because of his nation, though Katara didn’t know how or why.

And there it was again—that _something_ tickling at her brain.

A wisp of smoke in her mind, it swirled about but took no coherent shape. And Katara was too distracted to let it form properly.

Carefully, holding her breath, Katara put a hand up, gently touching his scar. He did not withdraw.

Katara’s heart was in her throat; she was more affected by this show of trust than she should be.

She wanted to trust him. Something—that _something_ —was telling her to trust him.

“Katara.” She jumped a little when he spoke. She wasn’t sure if it was just from the surprise that he was speaking again, or if it was also the strangeness that came with hearing him say her name. His voice was low, raspier than usual, and she only realized then that part of her hand was on his mouth. She felt the way his lips moved against her thumb when he spoke. “Before you try it…”

“What is it?” she asked quietly when he hesitated for a long moment.

He opened his eyes to look down at her. Katara couldn’t decipher what it was she saw as she gazed at him, her blue eyes locked with his amber ones. Was it warmth? Sadness? Fear, anxiety? Something else she couldn’t place?

“Before you try it,” he began again, eyes darting about her face, “I need to tell you—”

Suddenly, a loud blast came from the opening of the cave. Katara snatched her hand away and she and Zuko both whirled just in time to see the cascade of rocks pouring downward, and a cloud of dust. As it cleared, Katara saw a flash of familiar yellow and red clothing and blue arrows, and her heart leaped. “Aang!” she cried, face lighting up as her friend came into better view, as the dust settled. “I knew you would come!” She rushed forward to hug him tight.

“Of course I did, Katara,” Aang said, pulling back and placing his hands on her shoulders.

He then leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, causing her to freeze in surprise. Aang just gave her an adoring smile, his cheeks flushed with success and the relief of seeing her alive and well.

Zuko’s furious voice sounded from her right. “Uncle, I don’t understand. What are you doing with the Avatar?”

“Saving you, that’s what,” Aang replied, cheekily.

Zuko let out an enraged growl and started to lunge toward him, but Iroh’s hand came out to stop him. “Zuko, it’s time we talked. Go,” he said, addressing Aang and Katara now, “Go find your other friends. We’ll catch up with you.”

As Aang led her up and out of the prison, Katara looked back. Zuko was looking determinedly away from both her and his uncle; his expression was brimming with confusion and something like betrayal.

What had he wanted to tell her?

Was it possible he would actually help them against his sister, as his uncle had helped Aang?

Once outside and in the large, cavernous room of glowing crystals, Katara and Aang broke into a sprint. “Where are Sokka and Toph?” Katara asked as they ran.

“They went to warn the Earth King!” replied Aang. “But I think that—”

His words were drowned out by a familiar roar of fire coming toward them.

They both whirled, and the vivid blue of the flames told Katara it could only be one person who had shot it. Aang reacted swiftly, bending the floor up to protect them from the blast, though the force of it drove him backward, his feet sliding helplessly across the stone floor.

Spotting Azula, Katara immediately leaped into action, darting around the flames now licking the floor and summoning a gigantic wave of water from the nearby stream, twirling in mid-air, twisting the crest until it came smashing down toward Azula. Azula retaliated with a wall of blue fire, and a plume of dust rose up. Katara looked around wildly, waiting for Azula to appear again; Aang was at her side, scanning with her, until—

Azula was overhead, darting nimbly over the green crystals high above, bursting out of the fog of smoke and sending another fireball downward. Together, Aang and Katara bent a wave over their heads and ducked underneath for protection.

Azula landed on a pillar, and Aang wasted no time smashing it to pieces with his earth-bending; Azula leaped again, this time landing right between Katara and Aang, hands raised, glancing between the two, calculating her next move.

Katara’s heart was hammering. She was prepared to strike in a second, but was suddenly distracted by an orange fireball coming from her and Aang’s left, which exploded right in the middle of them and Azula. Everyone’s heads snapped over to see Zuko, his face hard, his hands raised in fighting position.

Katara’s heart shot into her throat.

There was a pause that was likely only a few seconds but felt like it lasted an eternity.

Katara saw Zuko’s eyes linger on his sister, slide to her, and then slide to Aang.

 _Help us_ , Katara found herself thinking. _Help us,_ _Zuko_ _!_


	8. don't let me down, II.

Zuko’s face flickered as he stared at the Avatar.

And then, to Katara’s surprise and horror, he attacked.

 _How dare you!_ a voice in Katara’s head screamed. _I_ _thought you were different! I_ _was going to help you!_

Katara was so surprised that for a moment she stood rooted to the spot. She registered, briefly, that she had believed in him, she had trusted him, she had thought that the few moments they’d spoken in their prison had meant something and that she was _hurt_ by this—

But then Azula had turned and shot fire at her, and Katara’s concentration was completely on the fire princess.

Azula sprinted toward her, but Katara rose water from the puddles on the ground, pushing it toward her. It sliced at Azula’s hair as she dodged sideways to avoid it, but Katara took those precious few seconds to shoot a blast of rushing water toward her opponent, knocking Azula back and to the ground. Katara gathered water around her so that it covered her body, her arms waving tentacles, and as Azula scrambled to her feet and shot fire Katara lashed out with one, hooking Azula’s arm.

Azula gave a cry that Katara had never heard her make before; she was losing.

Katara was winning.

With a vicious smile, triumph pulsing in her veins so furiously that even the explosions from Aang and Zuko’s fight did not phase her, Katara reached out with her second tentacle. It snagged Azula’s foot, which she had been trying to use to shoot another fireball in Katara’s direction. With a shout, Katara began pulling her up into the air, feeling satisfied, so satisfied, by the fear on Azula’s face—

A fireball lashed from her right, aimed at the streams of water and breaking the hold she had on Azula.

Her head whipped over. Across the narrow stream was Zuko.

Furious rage bubbled up in Katara. She had wanted to beat Azula, of course, but _this_ —with Zuko—this was now very personal.

As Azula darted off to attack Aang, Zuko sent a stream of fire toward Katara. She easily blocked it, her arm tentacles still intact. She made them larger, into whips, and she saw Zuko doing the same with his fire, and soon they were lashing at each other across the water. “I thought you had changed!” she shouted angrily, as she used both her arms to violently propel the water whips forward, only to collide repeatedly with his fire whips in bursts of orange and blue.

“I _have_ changed.” He curled another fire whip toward her, his eyes cold and his face set.

This went on for a minute or so, with Katara fiercely trying to best Zuko as she had his sister. When Azula appeared from above again, launching off crystals and striking downward with fire, Katara had to break her focus on Zuko and block Azula instead. She was blocking furiously now as both attacked her, but it wasn’t enough. When they both struck at the same time, Katara flew backward, knocked into more crystals, and crumpling to the ground.

Everything was fuzzy and almost dark. She was conscious, but just barely.

She could make out shapes moving, and the flashing of lights, but not who they were or what was going on.

There were shouts. The ground rattled multiple times. With difficulty, Katara rose her head, blinking slowly to try and focus.

When she did, she saw Zuko and Azula standing across from Aang, prepared to strike.

 _Get up_ , she begged her limbs. But as she slowly pushed to her feet, her arms and legs shaking, she saw Aang begin to rise.

He was glowing. He was rising in a stream of white light. He was in the Avatar State.

 _We’re going to win_ , Katara thought, wildly, happily, pulling water toward herself and surrounding herself with it to prepare an attack in case it was needed.

_Aang will win, he always wins—_

There was a strike of lightning. A horrible flash of white and the smell of burnt flesh. Smoke trailed from Aang's limp body as he fell out of the sky, and Azula lowered her hand with a smirk, having successfully struck her target. Without thinking, tears flowing down her cheeks but feeling curiously numb inside, Katara swirled the water higher, into a powerful wave, and rode it across the room to catch him before he hit the ground.

Katara had almost no time to act. She knew that.

Her back to Zuko and Azula, she ripped the vial of spirit water out of her dress, bent the water out, and administered it to Aang’s wound within seconds, quickly enough that they wouldn’t see. _Please_ , she begged silently. _Please, please, please save him_ — _please don’t let him die, I couldn’t handle it_ — _it has to be enough, it has to be—_

A fireball shot by, whizzing near her right ear. It was strange, because she wasn’t exactly a difficult target sitting still, but someone had missed her, giving her the time to clutch Aang to herself protectively and roll.

“Katara!”

It was Sokka’s voice. He was running toward her with Toph.

Azula and Zuko were sprinting toward them, too. Almost without thinking, Katara swept her arm to block the fireball that Azula sent spiraling toward them, buying them just a few more precious seconds. “Sokka! Carry Aang so I can bend!” Katara cried, thrusting Aang, who still wasn’t stirring, toward Sokka.

A fireball hurtled toward them, and Toph planted her feet and rose the ground. The fire blasted the stone into pieces, and they all ducked as the shards rained through the air. Everything was happening so fast.

_It has to be enough, it has to be, please, please—_

“Let’s go!” Sokka yelled, hoisting Aang into his arms and turning to sprint toward a narrow ceiling opening on the other side of the room, just enough for either Toph or Katara to bend the group upward and out.

They started to move but Azula shot another lethal fireball, and Katara whipped around to block it with water.

“Katara! Let’s _go_!” Sokka’s voice was urgent.

“I’ll be right behind you!” Katara yelled.

Pulling the water into tentacles again, eight this time, she struck with two of them, attempting to subdue Zuko and Azula both at the same time, hoping to at least buy enough time for her and her friends to escape. Katara peeked over her shoulder very briefly to see that the others were seconds from the exit.

“Hurry up, Sugar Queen!” she heard Toph yell, anxiety clear in her voice.

Sending a wave of water over her shoulder, Katara began to sprint toward them now too. She heard the ground move and saw Toph flick her hands, halting someone, presumably, from attacking Katara, while Katara periodically sent waves over to block herself. But a sudden impact smacked her between the shoulder blades, launching her forward. Katara cried out as she slammed into the jagged wall.

“KATARA!”

Sokka’s yell was terrified. She’d never heard her brother sound quite like that before. Katara scrambled unsteadily to her feet and saw him and Toph standing, waiting, Aang still hanging slack in Sokka’s arms. “Go! Sokka, get Aang out and away!” She saw the hesitation on his face, even as she blocked another fireball whizzing toward her. “NOW!” she screamed, impatiently. “Before the Dai Li show up! I’ll catch up with you!”

A lie. She knew it was a lie.

She knew Sokka did too.

It didn’t matter. It got Aang out, it got them all out.

Another fireball collided with her chest just as Toph bent the rock and began to pull them upward and away, toward escape. She heard Sokka yell, but it was growing fainter, and Katara couldn’t make out what he was saying.

They were going up and up and up, and then they were gone.

Vision partially blurry, Katara saw shapes advancing toward her. She saw Azula drawing closer, blue fire on her fingertips and a victorious smile on her face. And Katara’s rage suddenly flared bright; she thought of Azula’s smirk, and Zuko’s betrayal, and Aang’s limp body in her arms. She drew herself up to her full height despite her injuries and held up her right hand, curling her fingers with all the concentration and strength that she had left.

The effect was immediate.

Azula’s eyes went wide with fear, and she whimpered, actually whimpered, as her limbs began to twist and contort.

Katara was in Azula’s veins. She controlled it all; her every movement, where the blood flowed, whether or not it went where it should and did what it needed to do. She squeezed experimentally, eyes blazing down at the fire princess, and Azula gasped and wheezed, apparently feeling the pressure Katara had put on her heart.

This was different than practicing on herself. The resistance was so much stronger, but so was the power.

Katara’s wild eyes found Prince Zuko.

He was standing there, arms raised in attack position, but he had paused, his eyes wide, seemingly uncertain what to do next in the face of this new threat. Katara screeched at him, her voice dark and warped and unrecognizable. “You shoot anything toward me and I _will_ stop her heart first!”

Azula gasped and choked and shuddered, still twisting in sickening positions.

To demonstrate her point further, Katara dragged her hand downward, curling her fingers tighter, bringing Azula to her knees before her. Zuko seemed to believe her, because he suddenly put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, bowing his head in a show of submission.

Katara almost wanted to laugh.

He wouldn’t risk his horrible sister, but he’d attacked Aang.

He’d made her believe he had good in him, she’d offered to help him, and then he’d thrown it in her face.

She hated him. She should have bent the blood in him instead. Maybe she still could.

Experimentally, she raised her other hand and tried to reach into his bloodstream. He groaned and started to shake—she could see his arms trembling even from here, clearly feeling the intrusion—but Katara felt her grip on Azula slipping as a result, and she wasn’t even fully controlling Zuko. She was not strong enough to control two people yet. But thankfully she didn’t need to be.

Katara was just about to relinquish her hold on Zuko again when he gasped, his mouth opening like he wanted to speak, his gaze on something over her shoulder.

_Whack. Whack. Whackwhackwhack._

Katara let out a cry that was half a sob, her arms searing with unbelievable pain at every strategic point she’d been struck before she felt them get that sickeningly familiar heaviness for the third time in her life.

Valiantly, she tried to twirl and land a punch on her attacker, but her arms wouldn’t lift, and Ty Lee just used the wall to push off and soar up and away, back toward Azula, her job finished once more. Katara stumbled, still intent on using her legs, the last thing she had left, even if it was unlikely it would do anything.

But then knives flew toward her, catching her dress, pinning her to the rocky wall behind her.

Katara couldn’t struggle. Her arms were still limp.

She was trapped.

“So.” Azula’s voice was the deadliest Katara had ever heard it.

And when Katara looked up, she saw the wrath clear as day in the fire princess’ eyes; Katara had bested Azula when they’d been fighting earlier; then she’d subdued her completely with bloodbending. Katara was going to pay. “Our little water-bender has learned some new tricks.” Azula stalked forward, and Katara struggled against the knives pinning her. But they were deeply embedded in the rock, and she still didn’t have the functionality of her arms.

Azula paused right before her. “I must admit I’m a little impressed,” said Azula, watching her carefully. “What a perverse display. I’ve never seen anything like it. How did you learn to bend the blood inside another person?”

Katara said nothing, avoiding Azula’s eyes, staring mulishly down at the stone floor.

“Not going to answer? Oh well,” said Azula, waving a dismissive hand. “It won’t matter in a moment anyway. Goodbye, water-bender.” A flame blazed to life in her palm, forming a burning dagger, and she raised her arm to strike. Katara curled inward against the heat of the fire, unable to keep from letting out a whimper of fear, feeling her adrenaline spike and her pulse jump out of her throat as she stood there helplessly, inches from death.

“ _Azula_!” Prince Zuko’s voice was sharp and commanding.

Azula paused, but she did not lower the blazing dagger. Katara felt sweat beading at her hairline, trying not to choke and cough from the proximity of the smoke coming off the blaze. “What is it, dear brother?”

“What are you doing!?”

Azula heaved a theatrical sigh. “What does it look like? I’m killing her.”

“No, you aren’t!”

This made Azula lower the dagger, her eyes narrowed. She whirled to stare calculatingly at Zuko. “Why?”

“She’s useful,” said Zuko. “Obviously.”

“She’s dangerous,” Azula corrected. “And you’re weak. You’ll have to get a stronger stomach soon, Zuzu.”

“ _Don’t call me that_!” Zuko spat. His eyes looked wilder than Katara had ever seen them. “And I’m just pointing out that she has healing abilities. She can heal faster and better than any of our Fire Nation personnel can. We don’t usually have water-benders for healers. Our military would recover quicker; we’d be stronger than ever.” He paused, staring intently at his sister. “Not to mention that she has people that care about her that might come looking if we hold her. She’s perfect bait.”

Azula’s gaze slid to Katara. Calculating again. She was always calculating.

“Even so,” said Azula slowly. “She is still too dangerous.”

“I’ll _never_ heal for you!” Katara yelled, struggling against her knives again. The feeling in her arms was beginning to come back, but she was still trapped. Zuko threw her a look of supreme fury. Well, Katara didn’t care. Just because he wanted some sort of glory for thinking of using her for her healing abilities didn’t mean she was going to let them take her like this.

But Azula was suddenly smiling. “You know, I think you actually will.” She turned, barking over her shoulder, “Mai! Ty Lee! Fetch the ringleader of the Kyoshi warriors, and tell the Dai Li to join us as well. It seems our water-bender needs incentive to cooperate.” Azula’s eyes flashed at Katara as the other two girls turned and followed Azula’s orders, disappearing from the room.

The blood drained from Katara’s face. She felt suddenly faint. “S—Suki?”

“Yes,” said Azula in a voice laced with mock sympathy. “Your poor little friend. Luckily my brother is right: you _can_ be useful to us. So I will offer you a deal. You make our army more powerful and work as a nurse for us—no rebelling, no misbehaving, no bending except for your healing—” Azula’s smile grew viciously wide. “And I won’t kill your friend in front of you.”

“You’re bluffing,” Katara said, though she wasn’t sure of any such thing.

“Am I?” Azula’s eyes were glittering. “Well, by all means, test me on it when she gets here.”

Katara sat there, shaking with rage, as the minutes passed. Zuko and Azula did not speak to one another. Azula did not take her eyes from Katara. She was watching her as though she was still thinking about pulling out that fire dagger again, or perhaps planning some other method of a slow, painful death. Zuko seemed to note this too, because his eyes flickered between them, appearing uneasy, and after a moment he edged over until he was standing between Azula and Katara.

Azula just laughed. “As if you’d be able to stop me.”

“I would.” Zuko’s voice was hard and cold.

Azula shook her head. “So this is what it will be like to finally have you as an ally, brother?”

“What, having me help you? Keeping her alive is the smartest move.”

Before Azula could reply, there were footsteps announcing the return of her sidekicks. They were followed by a swarm of Dai Li agents, and they were also dragging Suki between them. They really appeared to be literally dragging her. Suki had purposefully gone limp to make things more difficult, and by the time the two girls got her over to Azula they were panting and looked as though they wanted to kick Suki. They threw her at Azula’s feat and Suki got to her knees, glaring defiantly.

The fire dagger was back in Azula’s hand. With the other, she hoisted Suki up and held her still. They were both facing Katara; and then the fire dagger was at Suki’s neck. “So?” Azula inched the dagger closer to Suki’s neck, causing Suki to let out a terrified gasp.

“It’s okay, Katara,” Suki said, though her voice was shaking.

Azula held the burning dagger even closer, and Suki began to struggle against Azula’s grip, her eyes wide and panicked and frightened. And Katara broke, the words stumbling over each other in their haste to get out. “ _Yes_! I’ll do it,” she choked out desperately. “I’ll heal for you if you don’t hurt Suki. _Please_ just stop.”

“I thought so.” Azula moved her hand; the fire dagger receded, and she threw Suki back to the ground.

Azula eyed Katara a moment before coming forward and yanking the knives out that were pinning her. Katara had her bending back; she could tell by the feeling in her arms. But she didn’t dare attack.

“Very good. You’re learning.” Azula’s voice sounded maliciously amused. “Now bow. Offer yourself to us.”

Defeated, hating Azula, despising them all, Katara grit her teeth and sank to her knees. Lowering her head, she offered her wrists up, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes but careful to keep her eyes downcast. She would not let them see her cry. She was very determined that she wouldn’t give any of them that satisfaction.

Earth rock cuffs were snapped onto her wrists; they were so heavy that her arms fell to the ground with a loud thunk.

Something inside Katara crumpled.

She’d lost.

She was Azula’s prisoner, and she was going to the Fire Nation.


	9. III. army of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been following this story and waiting, thank you so much for your patience.
> 
> And another huge thank you to those leaving kudos and comments. You're the best!
> 
> A quick CW: the imprisonment chapters are a bit darker than the others. There are elements of psychological horror and conditions are obviously......not super for Katara. Lol. So I thought I would give an extra heads up.
> 
> Also🚨🚨: I about died when I finally logged in again and saw that one of the lovely readers of this fic commented to link me an amazing fan art they made: the scene where Katara and the Blue Spirit are jumping rooftops and he catches her. [HERE IS THE LINK](https://www.deviantart.com/nurchie/art/Catch-me-860203629) to the piece over on DeviantArt. An endless thank you to the artist, Nurchie! I'm still in awe.😍😍😍

* * *

The Dai Li led Katara and Suki to the ship. They only had those precious minutes together before they were separated.

They were not allowed to speak, so all they could do was give each other reassuring looks before they were herded off to their own isolated rooms below deck, not knowing when they would see each other again. But Katara could see the same horrible thought playing out in Suki's face that she was having; that she did not know when, or if, they would see each other again.

The Dai Li threw Katara into her room and left her there.

Katara examined her room carefully, but the only things inside were a bedside table without drawers and her tiny bed stuffed into the corner of the room. There were no decorations. The air felt damp and cold, settling heavily into Katara's lungs.

After ensuring there was nothing of interest in her room, Katara sat. The bed was hard as a rock.

Katara tried to find ways to pass the time, just as she had in the catacombs. But this was so much worse.

In the catacombs, she hadn’t been nearly as parched and starving. She hadn't had rock cuffs on that were beginning to rub her wrists raw. She’d also known her friends would come to her rescue. Now she didn't even know if they were all alive.

They’d escaped, that much seemed certain. But Aang’s injury had fried his insides. Katara had felt it when she’d administered the spirit water. She hadn’t felt his heartbeat. But then it had returned, weak and fluttering, and he’d opened his eyes. Even so, he would likely be fragile when he woke up, and now he was without a regular healer unless her friends traveled all the way to the North Pole.

Then there was the matter of the Black Sun invasion. Her friends could not both save her and prepare for the invasion, especially with Aang so gravely injured.

He was not dead.

Katara refused to believe he is dead. He'd opened his eyes. That meant he had to be fine.

If they were logical—and Katara knew Sokka would be, however painful the decision would be for him to make—they would not focus on rescuing Katara until after the invasion. More than likely, they would try to do it during or after.

So Katara was a prisoner, she would likely be a prisoner for at least a while, and her warden wanted revenge. Katara had seen it all over Azula's face as the Dai Li had led her and Suki away. Azula wanted her to suffer. She wanted to punish the peasant that had overpowered and humiliated her during battle not just once, but twice.

Despair rose up and choked her. She lay back on the hard bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Katara couldn’t think of her friends any more. Not yet, not now. It hurt too much to picture their faces. It ached too much to miss them. So she tried to count the seconds and minutes again, but after a while she just lay still, numb and exhausted, finally allowing the hot tears to spill over her cheeks, thick and fast, since she was alone.

She was still sobbing twenty minutes later when her door rattled.

Katara sat up immediately, wiping her cheeks, her entire body already painfully tense. Azula stepped in, that familiar, cold smirk on her face. “We’ll be sailing out tomorrow,” she told Katara breezily, as if Katara had expressed interest about the travel plans. “If you attempt to bend any liquid remember that I will kill your friend, and you will watch. Then I will kill you. If you attempt to escape, I will do the same.” Azula paused, eyes glinting. “So, to celebrate you and your supposed usefulness joining our noble cause—”

“I have _not_ joined your cause!” Katara spat, but Azula ignored her.

“—I require your presence at lunch tomorrow after we set sail.” Azula was still smiling, but her eyes promised pain. And then she turned around and walked out. In her place a guard appeared with a glass of water and bread, set it on the small table beside Katara’s bed, and scuttled out, slamming the door behind him.

Slowly, Katara lay back down.

She was alone again. She was alone again, and now she was shaking.

She hoped Azula hadn’t seen.

* * *

Midday made itself known the following day with a sharp rapping sound on Katara’s door, which she had no choice but to answer.

The guard had a severe look on his face. “I am to lead you to the showers. Princess Azula requires that you wash before being in her presence for lunch. She says you are to receive no towel, and will bend yourself dry.”

Katara grit her teeth. “Fine.”

He made a sharp gesture with his hand, indicating that she should follow him, and again, Katara had no choice but to obey. She lost count of the corridors they went through. At least ten. When he stopped at a door, he just nodded tersely at her. “You have ten minutes.”

Katara stepped in and shut the door behind her before she began prowling around the room. She pushed aside the giant curtain and walked into the communal showers and came back out. She walked into every corner of the room and peered under every table. There were two rows of storage cupboards in the middle of the room, with doors on the top and bottom of each cubicle. There were also benches placed in the middle. Presumably this area was for undressing, but Katara still did not disrobe.

The doors were all slightly ajar, the storage cupboards seemingly unused. Nevertheless Katara opened each one wide and checked inside to be absolutely certain that she was alone.

Finally, though still wary, she slipped off everything save her mother’s necklace and piled the clothes into one of the cupboards before hurrying into the shower area and closing the curtain. The water was uncomfortably cold. Katara guessed that fire-benders must heat it themselves, but seeing as she was not a fire-bender she would just have to make do with the cold water. Despite the temperature, it was still nice to have a shower again. To feel clean.

She even did some light bending, or what little she could do in her cuffs. She just swirled the water around in tiny circles, twirled it, watched it glitter in the dull light of the moldy, depressing room. And even though the water wasn’t hot, it still helped at least a little with relaxing the knots of tension in Katara’s shoulders from all the stress and sleeping on that rock hard bed in her room. She was in a much better mood by the time she shut off the water and bent herself dry.

That changed immediately when she returned to her cupboard and found that her clothes weren’t there.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her breathing got suddenly short and painful. She couldn't get enough air to her lungs.

Katara hurried to each cupboard, ripping them open, praying that she'd only opened the wrong one, but no—her clothes were gone. The panic rose further, and her limbs started to shake. “Where are my clothes?!” she cried, to no one.

She automatically wrapped her arms around herself, shivering now, eyes darting around the room.

Her heart nearly stopped when she heard a voice from the other side of the door.

“Katara?” Prince Zuko sounded both bewildered and urgent. “Are you alright?”

Katara quickly yanked two cubicle doors open, the top and the bottom, and slid behind them to cover herself.

“No!” Katara was horrified to note that she sounded tearful. And terrified.

Zuko immediately started to open the door. He was frowning when he came in, and the frown became even more pronounced as he saw the way Katara was peeking around the open doors. He started to approach her.

“Stop!” gasped Katara. “Don’t come closer!”

Zuko halted instantly.

And then his eyes flicked down, and Katara saw the simultaneous comprehension and discomfort appear on his face when he saw her bare midriff, the only part of her revealed in the gap between the two open doors. Katara noticed a flush rise in his cheeks before he turned sharply and shut the door behind him.

Katara briefly registered that if he were a guard, a stranger, that move may have actually made her more afraid. But she knew Zuko did it so no one else would come in. He had, after all, listened without hesitation when she’d told him to stop coming toward her. It almost made Katara hate him more, because deep down she knew Zuko didn’t seem to enjoy actively hurting people, and she most certainly did not want to come to rely on him to be a source of relative safety in her captivity.

“Sorry…I, uh, didn’t know that you were…” His throat moved violently as he tried to swallow with apparent difficulty. He was half turned her direction—Katara was reminded suddenly and very vividly of his body language in the crystal catacombs, and an unexpected pang went through her—but he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring determinedly up at the ceiling. “What’s going on?”

“Someone took my clothes!”

He blinked a few times, but his gaze remained fixed upward. “What?”

“My _clothes_ ,” Katara emphasized, irritably. “I had them in one of these cupboards for my shower and someone came in and took them! And no one gave me a towel. They said I could just bend myself dry.”

Zuko finally glanced warily toward her. “I’ll find you something. Stay here.”

He turned on his heel, his shoulders stiff, and made to exit again. But before he could the door opened and Azula stepped into the room, a bundle of red clothing in her hands and a chilling smile on her face. Katara felt her blood freeze.

“Zuzu,” Azula lamented, her voice laced with savage, amused mockery. “What will Mai think?”

Prince Zuko’s fists clenched at his sides. His knuckles began to smoke. “I didn’t know that she was—why did you take her clothes?”

Azula brandished the flimsy Fire Nation dress in her hands. “I was getting tired of seeing her horrible peasant rags.” Her gaze flicked to Katara peeking from behind the open doors, and she smirked. “Here, water-bender.” She tossed the clothes. They landed in a heap on the floor, far from where Katara stood, and Azula’s malicious smile grew wider. “ _So_ sorry that you had to wait so long like this. I told my guards to leave after they retrieved your clothes and that I would personally bring you replacements. As I’m sure you know, I’m quite busy. It must have been so very _uncomfortable_ for you.”

Katara was both so disturbed and so angry at this power game the princess was playing that it took her a moment to speak. “I want my own clothes,” she ground out finally. “I’m _not_ wearing that thing.” She pointed to the dress on the floor.

Azula’s eyes went dangerously cold, but her lips curved up further. “Your clothes have been burned.”

“ _What_?” Katara yelped furiously. “You—”

“Ah ah, don’t insult your princess,” said Azula smoothly. “It’s either that dress or nothing at all. Certainly it’s warm enough where we’re going, and it would provide some much needed entertainment. It’s your choice.”

Katara’s face screwed up, about to scream furious insults, but Prince Zuko spoke first.

“ _Enough_ , Azula!” He was glaring at her.

Azula just laughed. “You and your soft spots, Zuzu.” She then looked at Katara again. “My guards will be here in five minutes to escort you to lunch above the deck.” She smirked. “This can be a test of trust. Remember our rules. You know the consequences if you try anything that we have decided is against our rules. And I wouldn’t try if I were you anyway. It’s noon. You’re at your weakest, and we’re at our strongest, and those cuffs restrict most of your bending moves.”

She turned and walked briskly out. Katara could only see half of Zuko’s face, but she saw the scowl on his features before he quickly stalked after her, leaving Katara alone once more.

It took Katara a moment for her breathing to return to normal and to stop shaking enough to walk over to the dress and put it on. Getting dressed also took longer than usual, as she had to awkwardly shimmy the dress over her head with her wrists bound. At first she had it on the wrong way, but she finally managed it. She only had time to smooth the fabric over her hips and glance once in the mirror—her midriff showed in this dress, too, and it was sleeveless, the fabric light and airy and much thinner and shorter than Katara was used to—before a knock sounded on the door.

Steeling herself, she walked to open it. She was surprised to see not a guard, but Prince Zuko again.

“What are you doing?” Katara crossed her arms and scowled, but avoided his eyes. This entire thing had been mortifying. And yet, even she had to grudgingly admit to herself that it was a relief to see him rather than another guard.

“I’m escorting you to lunch.”

Katara looked sharply up at him. “What? Why?”

“Because. Let’s go.” He stepped back and jerked his head toward the corridor.

Katara just scowled deeper and stepped out of the room, falling into step beside him. “‘ _Because_ ’ isn’t an answer.”

“I think you’ll find my company preferable.”

Katara let out a viciously sardonic laugh, unwilling to acknowledge that his words held truth. “You’re wrong, but whatever helps you sleep at night,” she said. A muscle twitched in his jaw but he just continued staring stonily forward, not replying.

Part of Katara wanted to goad him and yell at him and push him. Punish him for his betrayal. But this was an angrier side of Zuko, as opposed to the hopeless dejection she’d seen in him in the crystal catacombs; she wasn’t sure how far she was able to push him today.

If his expression was anything to go by—not far.

And besides, she was exhausted.

She wasn’t about to use her valuable energy to speak further with him. It wouldn’t do anything anyway.

When they came above deck, it was so bright that Katara had to raise her arms and shield from the brilliant sunlight reflecting off the rolling waves. When she looked around and out at the open sea there was no land to be seen. It seemed that she was well on her way to her new prison.

She followed Zuko to a platform that raised well above the rest of the deck. To Katara’s horror, it was not just Azula that awaited her presence at lunch. Ty Lee and Mai were seated at the table, and there was an extra plate beside Mai that Katara could only assume was for Zuko. The girls' eyes drifted over her when she arrived; Ty Lee’s stare was curious, Mai’s disdainful. Katara wanted to sink into the floor under their gazes, but she raised her chin instead.

Zuko strode forward to sit at the table. Katara was left standing, alone, the wind blowing her dress slightly in the wind.

“Oh, good.” Azula was smiling slightly as she almost always was, that dangerous, predatory smile, her eyes blazing with a distinct triumph that Katara didn’t like one bit. “Well...” Azula continued, her tone lilting and her golden eyes raking over Katara. Her face wrinkled in sudden disgust. “You’ve removed the filthy part, at least, but your peasantry still hurts my eyes. Not to mention my appetite. Stand behind us while we eat.”

Katara almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Shock settled in before the anger did. Her mouth opened slightly. “ _What_?”

“Are you hard of hearing, or just stupid?”

The anger came then—a white hot bolt of it, a shock to her system, running from her toes all the way up her spine. Her fists curled so tightly that her fingernails dug painful crests into her palms. “I agreed to be your nurse. Not your servant.”

“You are what I want you to be,” said Azula. She arched an eyebrow, daring Katara to contradict her, and then jabbed her finger at a spot over her shoulder. "Move. Now."

 _I will_ _beat_ _you_ , Katara promised Azula in the safety of her own thoughts. _One day I will face you, and I will win._

It was the only thing that made her able to walk past the table and stand behind the others. She told herself it was better for her this way anyway. Humiliating as it was, she didn’t want to be in their sight, anyway. It was better that she hover here, in obscurity, for their lunch. Katara would stand here and try and enjoy what was sure to become a rarity for her: the smell of the sea, the sun, and the wind on her face.

She should have known Azula wouldn’t allow her to have that peace.

Two minutes later, the princess' knife fell to the ground with a loud clatter. “Peasant!” she called. “My knife has fallen. Come pick it up.”

Katara clenched her teeth so hard a rush of pain shot through her jaw. Her fingers dance little spasms at her sides. Her movements stiff and jolted, she slowly walked forward and bent to pick it up. She slammed it on the table next to Azula’s plate.

“It’s dirty.” Azula’s eyes locked with hers. Katara glared defiantly back, refusing to look away. “Bend it clean.”

“Wonderful,” says Azula, with a smirk. She waves her hand to indicate that Katara should move away, which Katara does gladly, retreating to her previous spot behind Azula. Unfortunately Prince Zuko is across from his sister, and his eyes briefly meet hers when she comes to a halt; Katara glares aggressively at him until he finally looks away.

Katara straightened her spine. She was sorely tempted to bend the blood in Azula’s arm and make her scrub the knife clean. Technically, she would even be following the orders. The only thing that kept her from doing it was the image of Suki’s face near that burning dagger. So she picked up the knife instead, still maintaining eye contact with Azula, and bent some water from the pitcher on the table to wash it off. It was more difficult than usual to do the necessary movement with the cuffs, not to mention that they rubbed painfully at her skin. But Katara refused to flinch or show her discomfort. Instead she flipped it around and handed Azula the knife again, giving the fire princess a tight smile that did not reach her eyes.

“Wonderful,” said Azula, with a smirk. She waved her hand to indicate that Katara should move away, which Katara did gladly, retreating to her previous spot behind Azula. Unfortunately Prince Zuko was across from his sister. His eyes briefly met hers when she came to a halt; Katara glared aggressively at him until he finally looked away.

 _Coward,_ thought Katara. _I hate you._

She was not offered any food or something to drink. She had no idea how long it had been since she'd eaten. It felt like a lifetime ago.

The sight of the food laid out meticulously and beautifully across the table, the smell of it drifting toward her in the breeze, was overpowering. Dizzying. Her stomach felt like a painful pit. But she didn’t ask. She refused to reduce to begging, even if she was starving, weak, and exhausted.

But Azula was not done taunting her. Katara had known that was what this lunch would have in store for her. As soon as she’d seen the others she’d known Azula meant to antagonize and humiliate her. Katara was getting her penance for beating Azula. She knew very well that Azula was not the sort of person that liked to be beaten.

“The water-bender has proven easier than I thought to make obedient,” Azula commented lightly.

A flash of heat, powerful as an inferno, swept over Katara. But she bit her tongue and stared at the ground. Looking at Azula at this point was too dangerous; the idea of attempting to send an ice dagger through her back—or perhaps through her heart—was far too tantalizing.

“You’re awfully smart, Azula,” said Ty Lee, in her typically bright, gushing manner.

“Oh, this was all Zuko,” said Azula. “I’m glad I listened to him and decided to keep her.”

Katara began to shake. She was being spoken about like a pet.

_Don’t break. It’s what she wants. She wants you to attack. Don’t do it. Think of Suki. Stay calm._

They ate, and Katara tried not to pass out from how good it smelled. Mostly it was Ty Lee that talked, trying as always to infuse a cheerful atmosphere. Zuko sat sullenly, only drinking tea and staring at his plate. Mai, Katara noted, unsuccessfully tried to coax him to eat, and leaned over to murmur something to him a few times throughout the meal.

“Peasant,” called Azula softly after a while. “Come back over here.”

Filled with dread, Katara made her way back to Azula’s side. The princess' golden eyes swept over Katara again, up and down. “Where did you get that necklace?”

Katara’s hand shook violently as she made the automatic, familiar clutching movement to her throat. She tried to swallow once, twice, three times, but her throat had gone suddenly very dry. Her heartbeat felt heavy and sluggish. “I—what?” she asked hoarsely.

Azula sighed melodramatically. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?”

“I—”

“Be quiet,” said Azula. “You must have showered with it on. Is it that important to you?”

An acidic taste crept up Katara’s throat and into her mouth. Her eyes began to burn. “No.” The shaky syllable was not convincing.

“Liar. Well, it’s no longer your necklace, it’s mine. Just like your clothes. Give it to me.”

Katara didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her extremities felt like lead.

“ _Now_ ,” said Azula. “Or shall I have my guards fetch the Kyoshi warrior?”

With shaking fingers, Katara reached up and undid the clasp of the necklace and held it slightly out. Azula reached out and snatched it from her, tucking it into her clothes with a smug smile. She was winning. She was searching for Katara’s pressure points, and she was finding them.

The tears that slipped out of Katara’s eyes burned. She tucked her chin down, hoping to hide them as much as possible.

“Oh, poor thing,” said Azula, sounding more amused than ever. “Now back up a few paces.”

Katara’s vision had become so blurry with tears that she could only make out a figure suddenly stand and stride away from the table, and a second figure get up and follow after them. Katara just shuffled blindly back, staring at the ground, tuning everything out but the sound of the waves. When she was finally able to force the tears to stop she saw that it was only Azula and Ty Lee left at the table.

After ten minutes of leaving her be, Azula picked up her glass of water, held it off the side of the table, and let it fall to the ground with a loud smash.

Ty Lee gasped and stopped talking as glass shards and water pooled on the floor. And then she looked up and at Katara, and Katara briefly saw that she was biting her lip and staring at Katara with something like fear. The expression was gone in seconds, but it was then that Katara wondered if Ty Lee might almost be a prisoner too, just in a different way.

“Clean it up,” said Azula carelessly to Katara. “No bending.”

Seething, Katara reached for one of the towels on the table, knelt, and began mopping at the mess. So much rage was in her it felt like every heartbeat hurt. It was as though she was on fire; her head swam and she felt light. The lack of food obviously did not help.

As soon as Azula was no longer paying attention to her, Katara very discreetly flicked her fingers.

There was a gasp—Ty Lee’s, again—and in an instant Azula was gripping Katara by the front of her dress, her furious face inches from hers. Katara kept her features straight and blank, even though she was gratified to see that the juice had spilled all over Azula’s front.

“That wasn’t me!” Katara protested, eyes wide.

“Don’t bother,” snarled Azula. “This is your first and only warning, water-bender.” Azula snatched at Katara's cuffs, using them to pull her closer and to expose the palms of her hands.

Katara heard Ty Lee’s choked gasp before she saw Azula’s flame.

The blistering heat on her palms had her screaming in seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also contact me [on Tumblr!](https://nellasera.tumblr.com/)


	10. little by little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and last chapter were meant to be read together originally, so here's another update this week.
> 
> Enjoy.☺️

* * *

Katara was escorted back to her cell with her hands red and raw and blistering.

Once there she lay on her side, curled into a ball, and cried.

She wanted to sleep, but her hands hurt too distractedly. And she was so hungry.

Katara cried until her eyes were so swollen it hurt to have them open. It felt like hours passed, but her sense of time was warped. However long it was, sleep evaded her. She couldn’t simply drift away to nothing. So she kept still, shivering slightly, the occasional tear slipping out of her eyes and running down her puffy cheeks.

Katara didn't know how long it had been when she heard heated voices just outside her door.

“…do you mean, not allowed in?” The raspy, irritable voice was undeniably Prince Zuko.

The voices outside the door became muffled as she zoned out. Katara found she didn’t care much what he and the guard were discussing. She just continued lying very still, facing the wall, her hands folded into her chest as if that would make the burns better. She tried to picture Aang’s face clearly in her head. And Sokka’s. And Toph. Suki. Appa and Momo. Blue.

She thought of her father.

And, finally, her mother.

Automatically, she reached up with her blistered hands and caressed her bare throat. More tears sprang to her eyes.

The voices outside the door got more heated. And then—

“Step aside,” Katara heard very clearly. “ _Now_.”

Footsteps. A light knock on the door, a pause, and then another knock.

And then her door was squeaking as it turned open. Footsteps entered her room, and the door closed again.

Katara remained facing the wall, unwilling to recognize his presence. She half feared that if she so much as looked at her visitor, she might try and attack him with her bare hands, burns or not. She was already beginning to feel a distinct anger bubbling in her chest.

She heard the sound of a tray clattering carefully on her bedside table. And then Zuko cleared his throat. “I, uh. Thought maybe you’d like some tea?” His voice was careful, stilted, awkward. When Katara didn’t bother to answer or indicate his presence at all, she expected him to turn around and leave. But instead she heard his feet shuffle across the floor as he added quietly, “It’s…uh, jasmine.”

The urge to scream at him was getting stronger. She knew that doing so to Zuko wouldn’t hold consequences for her in the same way that screaming at Azula would. And the desire to let her emotions out on _someone_ was so overwhelming. Still, though, Katara didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of looking at him or answering.

So she remained silent, trying to concentrate on keeping her heartbeat steady as her rage rose.

Katara heard how he took a few more tentative steps. “There’s, uh…something I need to tell you. Katara.”

It was two things in this statement that made her snap. The fact that he had started to say those exact same words in the catacomb under Ba Sing Se, right before he’d turned around and thrown her kindness to him and the beginnings of trust she’d shown him right in her face. And all of that was bad enough, but the very last straw in all this was that he'd tacked her name on at the end.

A contrived, empty sign of familiarity.

“ _I don’t want to hear anything you’ve got to say_!” Katara shouted, scrambling to sit up and finally whipping to fully face him, eyes full of fire. She jabbed an accusing finger his direction; his eyes flicked down and widened, but she didn’t let him speak. “And I don’t want your tea! I don’t even want to look at you! This is all because of you! Get out! I hate you! I _HATE_ you!”

Panting from emotion, despising that she’d shown him her weaknesses—her face, clearly showing she’d been crying, and her anger, showing she cared in any capacity—she crossed her arms over her chest, folding miserably over herself, the anger gone as quickly as it had come and replaced with emptiness. She started to turn around again and resume her position staring blankly at the wall, but she froze when he began to walk forward. Zuko’s footsteps as he crossed the room were purposeful this time rather than careful.

She dropped her gaze to stare determinedly at the floor rather than continue looking at him.

Prince Zuko did not come into her personal space. Instead, he hovered just outside it. He was quiet for a long moment, but when he spoke his voice was very careful, though wavering slightly. “What was that on your hands?”

Katara hadn’t been expecting that. She ignored him, still staring down at his feet. She realized suddenly that she was so light-headed from hunger that she had to keep herself from swaying on the spot. She wished that he would just leave. She wanted to lay down again and forget this had even happened.

“Show them to me.”

Scowling deeper, she unfolded her arms and jutted them out; in fists, knuckles up.

“No. Your palms,” said Zuko.

Jutting her chin up and still refusing to look at him, Katara turned her hands over and opened them.

Zuko inhaled sharply. When she looked up, blinking rapidly, surprised at the intensity of his reaction, she saw horror and anger etched on his features. And then he cursed so loudly and furiously that she jumped. “I’ll be back with cool water,” he said, roughly. He turned on his heel and stormed out of her room.

Katara just stared after him.

She truly didn’t get it. He was one of the most conflicted, confusing, _aggravating_ people she’d ever encountered.

True to his word, Zuko was back just a few minutes later, carefully carrying a bucket of water. He walked over and set it at her feet, then took a few deliberate paces back, watching her and waiting. “I was specifically ordered by your sister not to heal them,” said Katara slowly, wondering if this could be a trick.

Still, even if it was, looking at the cool water in front of her nearly made her collapse with longing.

She couldn’t even tear her gaze away to watch Prince Zuko’s reaction, to try and judge if he was toying with her.

“I will speak with Azula.” His voice was hard. “Heal yourself.”

Katara looked up at him warily. If he was faking his anger, he was doing a very good job of it. Besides, the lure of the water was too tempting to hold off any longer, and her stomach was too painfully empty to think straight anymore.

Without further argument, she plunged her hands in.

She hadn’t wanted to show Zuko how much it had been hurting, but she couldn’t hold back the little whimper-sigh that escaped her as the cold water came into contact with her burns. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on conjuring the healing energy.

But it didn’t come.

She opened her eyes and stared down at the bucket in horror.

Katara concentrated again, but nothing happened. A terrible lump clogged her throat.

“What’s wrong?” Zuko was watching her carefully.

“I can’t—I’ve never had a problem—” Her words stumbled out. Black spots began to fill her vision.

Zuko just turned on his heel and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Well. Fine.

By now she felt so weak that she could hardly stand up and move back to her bed. She collapsed onto it and tried not to think about what would happen if her conditions don’t improve and she can’t heal again by the time they arrive in the Fire Nation; if she couldn’t fulfill her usefulness. Another knock sounded on her door. A pause. And then Zuko entered again, lips pursed.

“Again? What do you want?” Katara hoped she sounded sharp and commanding rather than tired and boneless.

“The head guard has informed me that you were sent food last night and this morning, but it was not eaten.”

“Of course not.”

Zuko stared at her a moment in incredulous disbelief before his face twisted in anger. “Why didn’t you eat? No wonder you can’t bend. You're too hungry.”

“I’m well aware how hungry I am,” said Katara stiffly.

His face flickered. “There is a tray being sent right now. You will eat something.”

Katara put as much venom in her voice as she could possibly muster. “Fuck you.”

Zuko closed his eyes as if warding off the urge to shout. “I promise there is nothing in your food.”

“Your promises mean nothing to me.”

“I’ll eat some myself to prove it.”

Katara found that she didn’t have an argument for that, so she didn’t say anything. She just stared up at the ceiling.

The food arrived less than five minutes later, and it smelled so appealing that Katara basically already started salivating when the guard set down the tray. Zuko gave the guard a curt nod, and the door closed. Zuko picked up a piece of bread, dipped it in the soup, and took a pointed bite. He took a bite of everything on the tray and then stepped back, arms folded. “There. Eat.”

Katara narrowed her eyes at him. “Please,” he added, raising an eyebrow.

Her hunger won out over her defiance. Katara basically launched herself off the bed, though she was so weak and shaky from lack of food that she stumbled and nearly fell. But she made it to the tray and started to eat. She ignored Zuko, who still wouldn't leave. It was difficult, but she forced herself to eat slowly. She knew that if she ate too much and too fast at the beginning it would only make her sick.

It didn't take her long before she felt full. When Katara stopped she eyed the tea, but then decided she won’t humor Zuko by drinking any.

Katara’s eyes drifted back to the bucket.

“Try it now.” Zuko’s arms folded, his expression carefully controlled as he watched her go over and put her hands back in.

This time when she concentrated it worked. Katara watched as her hands began to glow. The relief was immediate and powerful. Katara’s shoulders relaxed and she sighed again as the burns and the horrible sensations they caused began to fade away.

When she pulled her hands out, Zuko’s hands stopped her from moving too far. They rested lightly on her cuffs, keeping her still.

Katara’s first reaction was to jerk away. But she didn’t. Zuko was staring at her so seriously that all she could do was stare back and wait for him to speak.

One of his hands shifted to an inner pocket of his robes and pulled out a key. “I’m going to take off your cuffs,” Zuko said, “so that you can heal your wrists. After you heal them, I will put them back on.” He paused, his eyes searching her face. “I know you hate me and would really like to attack me. Please don’t do that. Azula will kill you and kill your friend.”

Katara scoffed.

Prince Zuko’s lips pursed into an even thinner line. “I’m trying to help you.”

Katara had plenty of rude retorts for that statement but decided to keep them to herself. She just nodded curtly.

His eyes didn’t leave hers as he carefully twisted the key and the cuffs fell away.

Her wrists were already raw and starting to blister. She didn’t waste time healing them.

When she finished Zuko was already holding her a towel. She carefully patted her hands and wrists dry. She was on the verge of thanking him, a reflex of politeness, until she remembered that she hated him and that being a semi-decent human being about her injuries while she was his sister’s prisoner was not enough to warrant any form of gratefulness.

Instead, she just met his eyes and glared at him defiantly as he carefully cuffed her again and tucked the key away.

The silence was long and terrible.

“I never meant for you to get captured,” he told her finally, sounding very strained.

“Yeah, I know it was just Aang you wanted,” Katara shot back, very bitterly. “Well, you still got what you needed, didn’t you?”

Zuko’s face flickered again. And then he bent over to pick up the bucket. “This won’t happen again,” he muttered, and then he left.

Katara wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that. He wouldn’t bring her tea again? Wouldn’t show her sympathy? Or did he mean that he wouldn’t allow injury by Azula again? But in the end, she decided that it didn’t really matter.

She curled back onto her bed, and began replaying the faces of her loved ones in her mind, over and over and over.

Many restless hours later, she finally fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, the guards brought her tea, another bucket of water, and a gigantic plate of food before leaving her alone.

To put off the decision about whether to trust this particular batch of food, Katara first used the bucket of water for another healing session on her palms. As she did so, sighing from relief and trying not to let her eyes drift to the food, it occurred to her that the presence of the bucket probably meant it was Zuko who had all this sent rather than Azula. Zuko, as had become quite obvious, was not invested in killing her, or even actively harming her. It seemed to be exactly the opposite.

It made sense. He’d been the one to suggest not killing her, so Katara didn’t have any illusions as to why he wanted to keep her in better shape. If they brought her back to the Fire Nation and she wasn't useful, it would reflect badly on his decision-making. Keeping her well enough to function was merely in his best interest.

Plus, the steam curling off the food was sending intoxicating smells through the room…

Giving up on her self-control, Katara hurried over to the tray and began eating. She wanted to scarf it all down within minutes, but again, she knew to be careful.

It took some time, but she slowly ate every bite and also drank a cup of tea.

When she lay on the bed again she felt pleasantly full. Hours passed with Katara trapped in her tiny room, but she didn’t appear to have been poisoned. She wasn’t vomiting or nauseous, her stomach wasn'’t cramping, she wasn’t dying. And she felt much better.

Around what she guessed was midday, a knock sounded on her door. Katara grit her teeth and didn’t answer.

There was another flurry of knocks before it slowly opened. Katara knew who it was before he even stepped in the room. His sister certainly wouldn’t have knocked, and the guards only would have knocked once.

“I will take you on a walk above deck now,” Zuko told her.

“And if I don’t want to go?” Katara challenged.

“Then guards will be here soon to do the same.”

Scowling, hating that she preferred him and he seemed to know it, Katara stood and stalked over.

Without a word, Zuko swept an arm toward the corridor and she stepped out, following him as he led the way through the maze of dingy, depressing ship corridors and up to the deck. Once outside, Katara closed her eyes and sighed at the wind and sun on her face. She’d needed this more than she’d let on. Feeling the warmth on her skin was nice. It still wasn’t quite the same as feeling the moon. She had a feeling that she wouldn’t be seeing much of the moon anymore.

The thought made her sad. And then her sadness made her think of her friends. And soon she had stopped walking, staring out at the rolling waves unseeingly, picturing their faces. It simultaneously gave her strength and saddened her.

Prince Zuko stopped walking, too. Katara hadn’t even noticed until he slowly moved to stand at the railing beside her. He must have been hovering nearby, quietly just letting her be.

Even though she’d vowed not to speak with him, her curiosity got the better of her. “Was Azula angry?”

The line of his mouth got thinner as she watched him for his reaction. “Yes.”

“Should I be worried?” Katara did not want to sound like she was afraid. She thought she did a good job.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Zuko glanced at her. “I told her that if we need to use our prisoners for something important it’s best not to damage them, regardless of her personal vendettas. Otherwise there’s no point to having you.” He paused, his mouth twisting. “She told me if I know so much about prisoners that I should take over the responsibility.” He glanced at her again. “Although I’d still advise you not to give her any more reasons to hate you. She already has plenty.”

“Why _thank_ you,” said Katara. “I’m glad you, at least, take care of your possessions if they are _useful_.” Her voice was like acid.

“Would you rather I tried to convince her to be nice just for the fun of it?” His tone was just as hard and unyielding.

“I’d rather you didn’t get me captured at all,” she shot back.

“I told you, I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up,” snarled Katara. “I don’t care. I told you that your words mean nothing to me.”

Zuko’s throat bobbed a few times; he seemed to be having difficulty swallowing. He half turned and his eyes flicked around the deck. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “Did you use that spirit water? On the Avatar?”

Katara went rigid. So this was the reason for the walk. He needed to know if there was still someone to hunt. “No.”

“Then where’s that vial? If it had been in your clothes like before, Azula would have it. She would know. And if she knows...” Katara just stayed silent, her fingers gripping the railing, no longer looking at him. Zuko’s tone got angrier, more demanding. “Tell me.”

Katara just glanced at him disdainfully before turning her eyes back to the waves. “Go fuck yourself.”

There was a long, gratifying silence.

“I think the walk is over,” Zuko said curtly.

“Finally,” said Katara, though she knew she would miss the fresh air once she was back in her room.

* * *

It took a little over two weeks to reach the Fire Nation by ship.

Katara’s routine on board became predictable, boring. Though she supposed that was better than being frightened all the time.

She wasn’t sure what the worst part was. Probably the boredom. At night it got especially intolerable, because she could feel a restless, pent up energy thrumming in her veins. The moon’s energy. She missed bending—she was only able to sneak in a few pitiful minutes during showering. She missed the feeling of the moonlight on her so much that it felt like it physically ached. Perhaps even worse than the boredom were the nightmares, though there was nothing she could really do about those.

She was given three meals a day in her room. She was brought plenty of tea. She was taken to shower once a day in the morning, taken to use the bathroom once in the morning and once in the evening, and given fresh clothes each day. Zuko regularly came to allow her to heal her wrists under the cuffs. Things could be worse.

In her spare time she spent long, listless hours alone in her room. She thought of her friends.

She asked every single day to see Suki, but the guards never allowed it, saying that the princess was allowing her prisoner no visitors. Thankfully, however, Katara did not see much of Azula herself. The only times that she did were on her daily walks above deck, always near noon, and always accompanied by Prince Zuko. Azula spent time taunting her, and even taunting him—implying that the Fire Lord would not be pleased with Zuko’s prisoner without Azula’s decision or stamp of approval attached to her—but she did nothing else.

Still, the way Azula looked at Katara always made her happy to get away from the princess’ gaze.

The first two or three days on their walks, Zuko continued trying to ask her about the spirit water. Katara continued not to answer.

After that he seemed to give up, and he was mostly sullen and silent as they did rounds on the deck. Katara had learned that it was best for her to get as much walking as possible in now, so that her muscles wouldn’t feel quite so restless later, when the moon came out. After a while, she began running through some of the hand-to-hand steps Blue had taught her, figuring it might tire her out and help her sleep better even if she could not do any of the necessary arm movements.

Still, it felt good to use her leg muscles. So she did it anyway.

“What are you doing?” Zuko asked suspiciously the first time she did it, for she had come to a halt and crouched into a fighting stance right on the empty part of the deck.

“I’m not bending,” Katara told him, rolling her eyes. "How could I?"

She began moving through steps. Her muscles burned more than usual after getting through the sequence, but overall she felt the lost time hadn’t made her embarrassingly uncoordinated. Katara crouched again to start another sequence when she caught Zuko leaning against the railing, watching her. His face expression was unreadable.

She felt suddenly very self-conscious. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Oh yes, because this—” He gestured over his shoulder, at the endless blue of the ocean, “—is very exciting day after day.”

“I’m not here to be new and interesting for you,” snapped Katara. “You chose to be trapped on this ship. I didn’t.”

“I also have to make sure you don’t try and escape,” Zuko pointed out. “But here.” He turned his back on her, hands curling around the railing, his dark, shaggy hair blowing in the wind.

Sharply, Katara turned and started moving through steps again.

This occurred every day after that, with Zuko mostly gazing out at the sea while she walked or practiced her steps under the midday sun. It was the next best thing she had to bending or fighting. Every day that went by and they got closer to the Fire Nation it got steadily hotter; the sun became more powerful, beating on her neck, and the climate became more humid and wet. Katara found herself taking longer breaks between her sessions, and that it was harder to draw breath with all the water in the air. Still, she kept at it.

“You’re almost too fluid,” said Zuko one day, as she finished one of her routines with a leaping jump.

Katara jolted and whirled to face him, panting. She hadn’t noticed that he’d been watching. “What?” she snapped.

“You still draw on your water-bending techniques for a lot of moves,” said Zuko. “Sometimes it’s an advantage. But with things like that jump at the end or certain steps, it takes you longer. It’s too graceful and poised. You have to be swifter. More aggressive.”

“I don’t remember asking for your critique, or for you to teach me,” Katara said, her tone biting.

Zuko’s mouth quirked up, though she didn’t see what she’d said that was so funny. Maybe he just found the whole idea of her fighting like this funny. Well, screw him. Besides, Blue had thought she was good. Or it had seemed like it, anyway.

Thinking of the Blue Spirit sent a sharp pang through her that she hadn’t expected.

She turned her back sharply on Zuko again before he could see her face fall, and she crouched.

She began moving through her steps again. But this time a choking sadness was rising up, making it difficult to concentrate on the moves. How ironic, Katara thought, that she had felt so trapped in Ba Sing Se and now she was here. How ironic that there she’d felt so free, running around with Blue. He’d never even shown up, that last night.

The night after Lake Laogai, and Jet’s insides had felt so crushed and—

She pushed the horrible memories away. Such a short amount of time, and she’d lost so many people. Everyone, really.

She hadn’t realized she’d stopped in the middle of the sequence, head bowed and fighting tears, until Zuko spoke. “Katara?”

“Don’t call me that.” Katara’s voice quivered.

“Your name?” He sounded bewildered.

“What’s wrong with _peasant_?” she spat. She still didn’t turn to look at him. “I want to go back to my room now.”

“You still have more time out here.” His voice had taken on that softer quality she’d heard in the catacombs. It just made her angrier.

“I don’t care. I can’t be around you more today. I hate you.”

There was a long pause. “Fine,” he said, very quietly. On the walk back to her room he said nothing, and Katara didn’t either. She didn’t even look at him. When they stopped at her door, she was about to head in when he spoke. “You’re a good fighter,” he told her. He sounded so sincere. She hated it.

“Save it,” said Katara. But she sounded more tired than angry.

She heard him audibly swallow. “We’re going to arrive tomorrow,” he told her.

“Lovely,” said Katara sarcastically. “Looking forward to my next prison.”

She stepped into her room, but he gently caught her arm. Katara stiffened, but she didn't wrench out of his grasp, though Zuko blinked and quickly dropped her arm, as if he hadn't even realized he'd done it in the first place. "Your friend," he said. "Suki."

Katara whirled to face him, her heart suddenly hammering very painfully in her chest. "What about her? Is she okay?"

"Yes," said Zuko, "But you should know that Azula is planning on having her shipped off to another prison. After we're dropped off tomorrow, they'll take her to Boiling Rock. I wanted you to know. You ask about her every day. And if you ask Azula tomorrow, I don't want you surprised." He raised his eyebrows, and Katara got the distinct feeling he was chiding her. "When you're surprised you're more reckless."

Katara ignored that comment, despite the fact that she was shaking with anger. "But I thought Suki was here to keep me in line."

"Azula doesn't need Suki physically nearby to control you. One messenger hawk can still request her execution."

Katara was torn between throttling him and begging him to try and stop them from sending Suki away. Instead she settled on asking, "Will she be okay?"

"I thought my words meant nothing to you." He gave her a knowing look.

Katara's face twisted in fury. "Asshole," she spat, turning away, but he caught her arm again.

"No, wait—wait, Katara, I'm sorry." He paused, and when Katara glanced over her shoulder she saw he appeared uneasy. "Conditions are—harsh at the Boiling Rock."

"Oh." The word was barely a wheeze. Katara felt like her lungs were collapsing. _Suki_. How would Suki get rescued now?

"But she's a valuable prisoner," said Zuko. "They won't hurt her. And she's tough. She'll be okay."

Katara could not believe she was letting Prince Zuko's words comfort her. But the expression on his face was so serious, his eyes so pitying.

"I hope you're right," was all Katara could manage to say, hoarsely, before she slipped inside her room and closed the door in his face.

* * *

When the ship finally shuddered to a halt at port, it was guards that came to fetch Katara from her room.

They brought her to a ship deck bathed in twilight. The air was heavy and stifling, but the sky was beautiful—all purple and red hues as the sun sank below some mountains in the distance.

“Well, water-bender,” said Azula, when Katara was brought to stand before the princess, “you’ll be held in the prison at night. The guards will only release you at the explicit request of the royal family or the head healer at the hospital, who you now report to directly. As you do not need cuffs to do your work, they will stay on at all times. You know what will happen if you step out of line, so I suggest you don't try.”

"I want to see Suki." The command in her voice was clear. Azula's eyes flashed.

"You don't make demands, peasant. I am sending your friend to a different prison. Rest assured if you misbehave, I will still order to have her killed." Azula waved her hand lazily, and guards snatched Katara's arms. Katara opened her mouth, but Azula raised a hand. "Ah ah. One more word out of you, and I'll kill her."

Just before the guards lead her away, Katara locked eyes with Prince Zuko. He stood beside Mai, her arm looped through his. His hair was no longer down but in a topknot, and his eyes were solemn. As she was nudged sharply in the back to instruct her to begin trudging across the dock—it seemed she wouldn’t get the luxury of a wagon or palanquin ride, and would be making the long walk all the way to the city she could see glimmering in the distance, presumably where the prison was located—Katara realized with a burst of frustration and irriation that she was actually going to miss his presence.

Though perhaps _miss_ was the wrong word. But who else would let her heal her wrists? What if her fellow hospital workers hated her just as much as Azula? Though his motives for doing so may be selfish, Zuko still at least had _some_ modicum of care for her well-being.

Furious with herself for allowing this to happen, Katara focused on putting one foot ahead of the other as she was led away to her new cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did really mean the slow burn tag.😂
> 
> As you may have noticed, the chapter count has expanded by one. For those wondering, the end of this fic is not the end of this universe. I always considered this story similar to the first "season" in a two season ordeal. There will be a second fic continuing on that picks up where this one left off.
> 
> Concerning updates: this fic will finish in March, with updates coming on two Fridays (March 12 and March 26).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos, and especially comments, make me melt into a happy puddle!
> 
> And you can also come talk to me on Tumblr (@nellasera).🖤


	11. the same deep water as you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could update this one this week after all.😊 Enjoy!
> 
> !!CW: Another reminder that the imprisonment chapters earn the M rating. This chapter in particular describes some pretty disturbing images in the context of medical injuries/gore. Please keep yourselves safe.💚

* * *

It was beautiful in the Fire Nation.

The natural world was almost like a dream. Tropical foliage. Sunshine every day. On her way to the hospital every morning, escorted by her guards, Katara saw plenty of wildlife—curious animal eyes watching her from the trees or from the foliage. She envied their freedom.

It was truly unfortunate that the Fire Nation was such a horrible place and Katara couldn’t fully appreciate its beauty.

Katara had preferred her little room on the ship to her new cell. At least that had contained a bed, hard as it may have been. And the rocking of the ship had actually been rather soothing. Here, she just had to huddle in a corner on the hard floor. She hadn’t even been given a blanket. And she wasn’t alone here either. There weren’t any prisoners in cells that she could see, but she could hear them. One prisoner sobbed—dry, wracking sobs—every single night. The others screamed at them to be quiet. The sobs did not cease.

Every night when Katara returned to her cell, she scratched a notch in her wall with a little rock she’d found on the floor.

And then she laid down and pictured all the faces of everyone she loved, ignoring the sounds of misery around her, until she finally fell asleep; telling herself that she would see them again soon, that Aang was alive and improving, that everything would be all right once the Day of the Black Sun came.

It was all so miserable, but even worse than the wretched little cell and the prison was her time at the hospital.

It wasn’t as though the people there were horrible. The head healer at the hospital and the other employees weren’t kind to her, exactly, but they seemed to recognize her value. They certainly weren’t cruel to her. Mostly they just ignored her. Katara could see the envy in their eyes whenever she healed someone. It took her minutes to accomplish what they had to do over hours, or days, or even weeks.

The problem was that Katara’s healing did little to nothing in this particular hospital. This was the hospital for the worst of the worst; the people beyond saving. The people with chronic conditions, or injuries that had already ruined or shut down their insides. Even Katara couldn’t do anything about any of that.

The patients didn’t know this was the hospital they were sent to in order to die, but everyone else at the hospital did.

The air, especially now in the summer, was heavy. Muggy. The stench of blood and death hung there, choking Katara, and it never went away. She suspected it had been Azula to choose this location. She always seemed to know just what would torture people the most.

Katara couldn’t bring herself to turn off her emotions. She wished that she could. It would make all this easier.

Katara did not see Fire Nation citizens fighting on the wrong side of an unjust war. All she saw was suffering, exploited people, the lowest ranking officers, the poor, the front lines. She couldn’t even bring herself to dislike the other employees despite being of higher class themselves. The workers were tired, wan, and always had bags under their eyes.

Everyone was miserable. Every day at least one person died, and more people were brought in to die, often slowly.

Katara had been in this hell for nearly a week when one morning, the head guard rattled at her cell door.

The bleariness of sleep was so heavy today that he had to bark at her multiple times before she registered it. “Up! Get up!”

It was the same man that had taken her here the first night; a wolfish, square-jawed man with thick eyebrows, bulking muscles, and appearing extremely proud to wear the stiff Fire Nation armor. Katara didn’t even try to keep the burning hatred she felt from her gaze. Slowly, she rose. The cell door rattled, and the guard reached out and yanked her from her cell so forcefully that Katara stumbled forward. To her surprise, when they went outside he turned not toward the familiar path that would lead her to the hospital, but toward the city.

“Where are we going?” Katara demanded.

The guard threw her a look of deep disgust. “You really are a defiant little mouse-rat, aren’t you? No questions, or I’ll cut that pretty neck.”

It was an empty threat, and Katara knew it. Still, it would be useless to try and get more information out of him, so she fell silent.

They picked their way through city streets. Katara tried to ignore the stares. It was mostly easy. Her general misery and exhaustion made it necessary to concentrate much more on walking, so she just kept her gaze turned downward, toward her feet.

Katara was led to one of the most extravagant buildings she’d ever been in.

It was objectively gorgeous, but to Katara it was distasteful. The horrors and exploitation that had gone into building this place…

The corridors were wide, so wide that an entire army could probably be marched through them. They were decorated with a deep, rich red, with trimmings in yellow, sconces of fire leading their path despite the blistering heat of the day. Everywhere she looked were symbolic references to fire: power, dragons, and the Fire Nation insignia. Along the walls were portraits of Fire Lords of the past. It felt like their hard gazes followed her, a clear outsider in their court. Even long gone, the ghosts of the Fire Lords haunted her steps.

Katara shivered and watched her feet again instead.

They approached a gigantic door made of mahogany on an upper floor, intricately carved with more symbols from the corridor.

The guard reached up and briskly knocked three times on the door. Katara waited, trying to push away her fear. Could this be Princess Azula summoning her? Or worse, Fire Lord Ozai? This was clearly a royal chamber.

The only person that would be safe behind doors like these was—

After a moment it swung open to reveal Prince Zuko, and Katara felt every muscle in her body relax.

Not Azula. Not the Fire Lord. Just Zuko.

Zuko was wearing an informal and yet elegant golden-red robe. His hair was loose, hanging slightly in his eyes. He didn’t even look at the guard. His eyes found Katara and ranged over her a long moment, long enough for Katara to shuffle her feet and feel suddenly very self-conscious. “The water-bender prisoner, Prince Zuko,” said the guard, bowing.

“Thank you. You may go.” He still didn’t look at the guard, even when he bowed again and left. Katara was left standing alone in the corridor before Zuko’s door. “I had a training accident,” he told her. His voice was careful. “I wanted to know if you could heal it for me.”

“We both know I’ll say yes,” said Katara, “Seeing as I don’t have much of a choice.”

His seemed to hesitate for a moment before he stepped back, allowing her room to pass.

It felt strange to be in Zuko’s room. Even stranger was that if he hadn’t been standing in it there would have been no way to tell that it belonged to him at all; except, perhaps, for the golden crown piece that she saw sitting on his bedside table. But there were no other personal possessions, no nostalgic trinkets, no paintings or sculptures or memories from childhood.

It felt too large, too empty. It made Katara suddenly sad.

There was a bucket of water already sitting at the foot of his bed, near a chair. She walked over and he followed at a distance, clearly waiting for her to speak. “Where is your injury?” Katara asked.

“Wait. Do this first.” Zuko pulled a key out of his robes again and opened her cuffs. Katara stared down at her raw wrists but again wasted no time plunging her hands into the bucket of water, healing them quickly and with a hiss of content. When she’d finished she held out her hands again, waiting for him to cuff her. When he didn’t, she raised her chin to look at him questioningly.

“I’ll do it again when you leave.” His voice was hoarse. The look on his face confused her. It looked pained.

“Okay.” She’d take as much time without those cuffs as she could get. “Where is it?” she repeated, bending water out of the bucket.

It almost made her want to cry. Or laugh. It felt so good. It had been weeks since she’d been able to bend with the proper, full range of motion. She wasn’t sure if Zuko even realized just how much he’d given her by doing this simple act of trust, but when she caught his eye and saw his expression as he watched her twirling the water around and around, she got the sudden feeling that maybe he did understand.

Zuko cleared his throat and tentatively sat down in the chair. “My abdomen.”

“Then it’s better if you lie down.” Katara let the water fall back into the bucket and pointed at the bed.

He obeyed, standing again and striding over, unbuttoning his robe as he went. Katara was presented with a view of Zuko’s bare back, and how the muscles there rippled slightly under the skin as he shrugged off his robe. He was left wearing only flowing trousers. And despite seeing shirtless men with regularity, especially now at the hospital, Katara felt a distinct warmth crawling into her cheeks. She was unfortunately very aware that it had nothing to do with the heat of the day.

Katara hurriedly turned, walked over, grabbed the bucket and chair and began lugging them over to the side of the bed.

Zuko had not laid down yet; he turned at her movement. “Do you need—” he began, but Katara cut him off.

“I’ve got it.” She set them down with a clatter and waited while he stretched out, not looking at him.

As he moved and shifted, Katara caught the faintest hint of the scent of lemon.

She felt something like wistfulness. She was far too tired to examine why.

Once he was settled, Katara finally looked up and let her eyes sweep over the injury. It was a nasty burn right on his abdomen. Her lips pursed. “When did you get this?” She began bending water out of the bucket again and letting it coat her hands.

“Yesterday afternoon.” He closed his eyes and an expression of ease crossed his features when the healing water made contact.

“You should have had me come right away,” she scolded. “I can’t heal it all the way in one session now. I’ll need another.”

“Oh.” He opened his eyes to look at her. His gaze held something that made her tear her eyes away.

_Don’t let him trick you, Katara. Don’t let him make you believe there’s a human being in there again just because he’s not as openly cruel as the others. Anything seemingly helpful he has ever done for you, any softness he’s shown, is for his own gain only._

_Just like the catacombs._

“Enjoying being back home?” Katara asked brusquely. “Having fun waging your war?”

Zuko didn’t answer. He just stared up at the ceiling.

The silence was stifling and uncomfortable for a few moments, but Katara wasn’t finished with him. “I was right about you in Ba Sing Se. Hatred and destruction _is_ in your blood. You won’t fool me again just because you aren’t completely sadistic toward me as a prisoner.”

His eyes slid to hers. They were tight around the corners, his mouth a thin line. “You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?”

She raised her chin. “I think I do, yeah!”

He glared at her. “Well I have you figured out too.”

Katara snorted. “Oh, really? This should be good. Do tell.”

“You’re stubborn and passionately angry,” he said immediately. “But you’re the obvious caregiver in your group of friends, and most of your energy seems to be focused on taking care of others. So when you don’t have others to coddle, you’re actually pretty bad at ensuring your own survival. Not because you can’t fight back. You can. That’s the problem. If it weren’t for the threat hanging over Suki, I have the feeling that you would have gotten yourself killed in captivity by now because of insolent behavior.” Katara just gaped at him, her hand hovering over his abdomen as she continued healing him. He arched an eyebrow. “Should I keep going?”

“No,” Katara ground out.

“Because I’m right?”

“Because I hate hearing you talk.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Don’t you _dare_ —it’s _your_ fault I’m so angry! You and everyone in the Fire Nation!”

“I know.” His voice was softer now.

The burn looked better; as good as it was going to get. Katara pulled her hands back and turned away. Her voice was blank and empty. “Do you need another healing session tomorrow?”

“Only if you want to give it.” He sounded careful again.

“I’d rather be here than at that hospital,” Katara muttered, hating that she had to admit that. But it was true.

“Then I do need another healing session tomorrow,” Zuko said. And then, softer, “Have you been hurt? Has anyone mistreated you?”

This question surprised Katara, though she supposed it shouldn’t. “No.”

Katara saw his shoulders relax, some of the tension in them melting away. He got to his feet. “Good. And thank you.”

“It’s my job, isn’t it?” Katara said dully.

He didn’t answer. He began pulling his robes back on and Katara hastily averted her eyes. “You can go,” she heard him say. He was right in front of her again, towering over her, holding the cuffs out. Again, Katara smelled that whiff of citrus. “The guards have been informed to give you the rest of the morning to rest.” She obediently held out her hands. The heaviness settled on her wrists once again as the cuffs snapped back into place.

“Okay,” she said.

She was quiet and so was he as he led her to the majestic doors and to the guard.

* * *

The next morning the guard had to come in and physically wake her.

He did so by yanking on her hair and dragging her to her feet so roughly that she cried out in pain.

“Get _up_ , you lazy, filthy little peasant!” he snarled, his reeking breath in her face nearly making her eyes water. “The prince needs care.”

Katara stumbled almost blindly in the glaring sunshine along the path outside, trying not to wince as a sharp burr lodged into her bare foot. It took all her concentration to put one foot in front of the other, avoid further burrs, and to desperately try to forget the images in her head from the hospital yesterday.

A soldier had arrived with a crushed torso. His intestines had been partially spilling out of him.

The smell in the hot afternoon air had been unbearable. Katara’s eyes had watered so badly and the sight had been so viscerally horrible that she’d almost vomited multiple times. She’d tried to heal him even though she’d known it was pointless. All she could do after that was try and keep him comfortable as he died—slowly, painfully, and sobbing.

The flies had found him, swarming greedily, before death had.

No one deserved that. No one. He’d screamed for his mother at the end. The other workers had informed Katara afterward that he’d been an orphan from a young age, drafted into the Fire Nation army after schooling, promised honor and glory.

Needless to say, Katara had been lucky to get even the two hours of fitful sleep last night that she had gotten.

So the way to the palace and the walk to Prince Zuko’s chambers felt even longer and more grueling than usual. She stumbled so often in her haze of exhaustion that the guard pulled her by the hair multiple times to try and get her to quicken her pace.

When they arrived and the guard knocked, Zuko opened the door almost immediately. His brow furrowed deeply upon seeing her.

“Leave us,” Zuko told his guard, who obeyed his command without hesitation. Zuko closed the door behind them.

Katara stood frozen in the doorway for far too long, her knees quaking so badly she almost collapsed. Sluggishly, she began to move forward. She could feel Prince Zuko’s golden eyes watching her all the way until she stopped in front of him.

He took off her cuffs. She began rolling up her sleeves. “Part your robes and lie down,” Katara commanded, hoarsely, summoning water from the bucket beside the bed. Katara felt only half present in her body. Like she was in a horrible, horrible nightmare. The words were coming out and she was going through the motions, but she was acutely aware that it was all automatic, uncontrolled.

He did so, unbuttoning it and shrugging it off his shoulders with a slight wince.

He laid back, and mechanically, Katara reached out and began to heal him.

Staring at another abdomen was the last thing she needed right now. Her stomach suddenly rolled. All she could see were those intestines.

She remembered how that man had once scrabbled to try and push them back in. Katara shuddered as she remembered the squelching sounds it had made, the way he’d screamed. She tried to focus on Zuko’s injury, but images of that open stomach danced in her mind. Her gut lurched again and her vision went blurry.

What happened to you?” Zuko’s voice sounded very far away.

Katara, to her horror, burst into loud tears, her hands shaking violently as she valiantly tried to continue healing him.

His hands came and wrapped around her wrists, stopping her. His voice was rough. “What happened to you?” he repeated. She dimly registered that he sounded almost frightened.

“I—I can’t—” Katara got out between sobs. She squeezed her eyes shut, trembling so hard she could barely stand. Her breaths were coming out in horrible, painful wheezes.

She heard Zuko curse and shift to his feet, his hands coming to her shoulders to steady her. “Katara. _Katara_. Look at me.”

Katara didn’t. She couldn’t. She just shook her head with a shuddering little sob, trying to get her breathing back under control.

She felt one of Zuko’s hands slide up her shoulder, to the back of her neck, just below her hairline. Katara was too out of it to protest. She tried backing away, but he murmured, “Katara. It’s all right. Relax. Please.” Two of his fingers pressed into her neck at the base of her skull, and suddenly a warm, steady heat blazed into her muscles.

An instant calm spread through her. She exhaled slowly, still painfully, but she was already breathing easier.

“ _Oh_ ,” she whispered, her body drooping. Zuko’s hand on her shoulder tightened, holding her upright.

“There. See? It’s all right. Just relax.” Zuko’s voice was more soothing than she’d ever heard it.

“What…are you doing?” Katara felt almost sluggish again. She wanted to curl up on the floor and sleep.

“Pressure points for stress. And the heat helps calm you, too. You were panicking.” His thumbs rubbed gentle patterns on her neck, spreading the warmth through her further. After a few moments he asked quietly, for the third time, “What happened to you?”

Katara opened her eyes and nearly jumped out of her skin. She suspected that she may have if Zuko hadn’t been actively relaxing her. It was just that he was standing so close. His face was only inches from hers, and the concern etched onto it was palpable. But a flicker of frustration crossed over it. "Has someone hurt you?"

“No,” Katara whispered. “No, just—something that happened at the hospital yesterday.” She shuddered again, unable to stop it.

“What happened at the hospital yesterday?” Zuko’s voice was still calm. He began guiding her to sit in the chair beside the bed, his fingers still pressing into her neck. Katara sank into it gratefully. Her legs felt like jelly.

“There was a man. He—it doesn’t matter.”

“It seems like it matters.” His fingers moved in circles again. Katara sighed, eyelids drooping again.

“That hospital is horrible,” she muttered finally. “The injuries are beyond saving. I can’t help anyone. We all just have to watch them die. Yesterday afternoon a man came in with an injury…” She gestured to her abdomen area, hoping Zuko would get the message. By the way his fingers tightened on her shoulder, she assumed that he had. “He—everything was spilling out.” Her voice was steadily rising to a higher and higher pitch as she spoke. Her voice trembled. “I’ve seen a lot of things, healing people. I can handle a lot. But this was—I’ll never forget this one. The way he tried to put it all back in. The way he screamed. The flies—” Her voice died in her throat.

Zuko cursed again. When Katara opened her eyes he was sitting on the edge of the bed across from the chair, staring intently at her.

“I’m very sorry you had to see that,” he said. “We won't continue this healing session.” His fingers pulled away.

“No! I can. Just—it's on your abdomen and I’m running on almost no sleep, so…so I kept seeing….” She shivered. “I can do it now. Really.”

Zuko looked very skeptical indeed. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Just let me try,” she answered, stubbornly. “I’m not fragile.”

His gaze flicked over her for a moment. “I know,” he murmured, though he looked reluctant as he laid back on the bed.

It was quiet for a long time as she started to heal him. Thankfully, Katara felt calmer, and after he watched her a while he seemed to realize she wasn’t going to spiral again, and he put his gaze up toward the ceiling.

After a while she peeked at him again and noted that his eyes were closed, but there were lines of stress on his forehead.

Katara wasn’t sure what prompted her to ask. “Zuko?”

His eyes opened and fixed on her. Katara was irritated to note that her cheeks became warm almost immediately.

“What?” He sounded cautious.

Katara couldn’t really blame him. “Why were you banished?”

Prince Zuko’s face flickered, a dark expression crossing it, and she almost regretted asking. “I spoke out of turn at my first war council meeting,” he told her finally, moving his gaze to stare up at the ceiling once more. “It insulted my father.”

“That’s—that’s _it_?” she asked, aghast.

Zuko grimaced. “Yep.”

Katara swallowed hard. “And—how old were you?”

“Thirteen. I sailed the world for three years.”

Katara tried to imagine this lifestyle. She supposed she could, at least a little. She was a nomadic traveler now, after all, or at least she had been before she’d been taken prisoner. But she hadn’t been at it anywhere near three years, and she certainly hadn’t done it on a ship, surrounded by a crew rather than a group of friends that she loved. She didn’t think she could do that part: sailing constantly.

The weeks on the open ocean as they had sailed here had been so terribly monotonous.

_I used to think this scar marked me. The mark of the banished prince, cursed to chase the Avatar forever…_

Something horrible suddenly took shape in Katara’s mind, something almost unthinkable. Because she didn’t want to ask directly, instead she asked, “And…um…how old were you when…” She trailed off awkwardly until he was looking at her again. Katara reached out and very slowly and gently touched the scar on his cheek; he didn’t move, just like in the catacombs. He just sat frozen, watching her.

Her heart was racing. She already knew the answer.

“Thirteen,” he answered, very quietly.

Katara pulled her hand away, feeling sick to her stomach again. Her insides were churning.

She wanted to harden her heart and not feel something, to not feel sorry for this prince before her. She should hate him, but she was finding it increasingly impossible. She was still angry at him, but she had come to rely on him in her prison as her one comfort regardless of telling herself she wouldn’t. Even if she didn’t quite trust him completely, she trusted him enough. Enough to ask questions and not fear retribution. Enough to prefer his company to anyone else here.

Enough to be in a room alone with him, at his mercy. Enough to let him grasp her neck and press, and relax her into defenseless goo.

She tried to swallow, but her throat didn’t seem to be working. She opened her mouth and closed it again.

“You don’t need to say anything,” said Zuko.

“I can’t comprehend it,” whispered Katara, honestly, her eyes moving over his face, seeing the scar in a new, horrifying light.

“Don’t try,” he advised. He looked away, automatically tucking the scarred side further away from her.

“I don’t understand why you would want to come back to this.”

She didn’t say it to be mean. She was genuinely curious. Why return to a parent that had scarred and maimed you? Why return to a place where you always had to look over your shoulder, where speaking out of turn got a child’s face partially fried off?

There was a long pause. “I believed in it,” Zuko said slowly. “I thought if I restored my honor he would finally love me.”

There was no need for him to elaborate on who ‘ _he_ ’ was.

“Can I ask you something else?” Katara finally asked tentatively.

Zuko arched a brow. “Fine. But only if I can ask you something too.”

Katara narrowed her eyes. “If this is about that spirit water—”

“No,” said Zuko. “Well. Sort of. I just want to know why you offered to use it to heal me. In Ba Sing Se.”

“Oh.” Katara bit her lip and thought back to that cave, glowing with green lights.

There were probably a number of reasons, now that she looked back on them. The most obvious, of course, had been the trust he’d shown her when he’d closed his eyes. That had thrown her so off balance that the tenderness she’d shown him had been mostly automatic. But that hadn’t been all. There had been the connection over their mothers. There had been the moment she had seen him as another person. There had been him opening up to her and apologizing to her. There had been that little voice in her head, nagging at her to trust him. And there had been that extra layer of vulnerability in Katara that particular day, after Lake Laogai, after losing all her friends.

“You…surprised me,” Katara said finally, deciding that was the safest thing to say.

“How?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I never really saw you as a person before that. Just an idea. I told you that.”

“And you do now?”

“Yes,” Katara admitted. “But not a trustworthy one. And definitely one I’m still very angry at, even if you are somehow the best option around here.” She sighed. “My empathy just got the better of me that day, that’s all. That happened to me before, with—” She stopped, hastily looking away from the curious light in his eyes.

“With what?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Now it’s your turn: twice you had something you needed to tell me. What was it?”

Zuko appeared suddenly uncomfortable. “Now you want to know? All the sudden?”

“Yes,” said Katara simply. “I do.”

“Well I—can’t tell you anymore.” He wouldn’t look at her.

“What? But I answered your question!”

“And I answered plenty of yours,” he said, shrugging. “But I can’t answer this one. Not now. Sorry.”

“That makes no sense,” snapped Katara, withdrawing her hands. The burn on his abdomen was all but gone. “Your healing session is over.”

“Okay.”

Katara threw him a glare. Zuko sighed as he began to stand and pull his robes back on. “I’ll tell you one day.”

“Whatever.”

_I can’t let myself be too soft with him_ , Katara reminded herself as he walked her to the door, informing her that today and tomorrow she would not be working at the hospital. _Remember what happened last time I felt sorry for him._

Still—now she knew details. Now she knew that Prince Zuko was at serious risk of being harmed here, too, that it had happened before.

She’d seen so many faces of this boy. Angry, vengeful hunter of the Avatar. An outcast, confused and wavering and vulnerable. A horrible, heartless person that had made the wrong choice. And now: a prince mistreated and reinstated, but still vulnerable, still wavering, still lost.

Or was he?

His words rang through her head all the way back to her cell, much as she tried not to think about them or believe them.

_I believed in it._

_I thought if I restored my honor he would finally love me._

She didn't trust him. She didn't.

But those words, and the expression of concern on his face…

They stayed with her.


End file.
